The Thirty Day OTP Challenge
by The Authoress Complex
Summary: In which the Authoress Complex faces her biggest challenge yet: Being punctual. Also, Ratchet and Clank fluff. Lots of it.
1. Day One: Hand Holding

_Crash._

"God damn it!"

The loud noise pulled Clank from the engrossing book, stunning him into silence before his expression softened, a gentle sigh working its way through the metal mouth; its usual exasperation replaced with a sense of benignant fatigue. His feet moved quickly when they hit the floor, more or less running in the direction of the clamor. He paused when he finally reached the door to the garage, of all places. Annoyance nearly got to him, before he forced himself to calm down.

It was not like this was any easier on Ratchet, after all.

To think that it had only been a few days prior – one or two, actually – when everything had been, well, not _normal_, not by the standard definition of the word, but typical for _them_. And then they were under attack. Not quite an unusual circumstance for them, either, despite the situation being resolved abnormally quickly. But that final fight... it was still all too easy to recall the sudden loudness of an explosion, followed by a pained half-gasp from Ratchet when he collided, head first, with a wall. He had made it out alive, thankfully, but there had been minor complications caused by the situation. Frankly, it was baffling. This was the first fight where he had not seen Ratchet walk away in one piece, cracking that confident smirk that sometimes fell into an almost smile when their eyes met...

Sighing, Clank took the final step and pushed the garage door open, leaving him in a predictable, if not saddening, predicament. Tools and half-finished gadgets garnished the floor of the garage as, in the center of the mess, Ratchet grumbled and rubbed at his foot. His ears perked the moment the door had been opened, and lifeless eyes suddenly met the robot's. A touch of uncertainty laced with the simple calling of, "Clank?"

"I am here, Ratchet," Spoke the robot, voice softer than normal to account for his friend's ultra-sensitive hearing – something almost nobody else took into account, resulting in subconscious flinching that made him look all the more vulnerable. Carefully maneuvering past the fallen gadgets, Clank reached his blind friend's side quite quickly.

The blow to the head, according to the doctor that examined Ratchet when he had awoken in a panic to darkness, had caused critical damage to the occipital lobe, effectively rendering the Lombax sightless. Thankfully, a neurotic implant would correct the problem. Unfortunately, the utter lack of Lombaxes anywhere in the universe meant that a modified implant would have to be created for him. In Bogon. It would not be here for weeks, at the least. Until then, Ratchet was SUPPOSED to be banished from the garage...

Upon pointing out this little forgotten tidbit, the Lombax scoffed, brows crunching in annoyance, "Hey, this is my garage! And anyway, I didn't really mean to come in here. I was just out on the terrace and," Here, he shrugged helplessly, "habits, you know?"

"I suppose so," Still, Clank shook his head in disapproval, then remembered Ratchet could not see it. He blinked as Ratchet attempted to stand on his own, using the bench that had, for so long, been used to record and build to steady himself. Upon putting weight on the foot he had been nursing, the Lombax winced.

"God damn it," The curse was muttered under his breath this time, "I stubbed my toe."

Clank giggled. What a ridiculous thing to worry about, in his predicament. The look on Ratchet's face, however, suggested that it was not all that amusing to the Lombax, so he slowed the laughter to a halt and placed his hand over one of the ungloved hands resting upon the desk and ignored the surprised jerk it gave before settling, "Please, allow me to help you."

It was obvious from the look on Ratchet's face that the idea did not sit well with him, but he did not complain, instead allowing Clank to help him straighten out before gently leading him through the mess of metal on the floor. Sometime before Ratchet got his sight back, Clank decided, the robot would do him a favor and clean that mess up. In the meanwhile, though, he kicked inventions and tools off to the side as he walked backwards, leading his best friend awkwardly by the hands. Despite the height difference and the blindness, it was actually kind of nice. There were not many times when Clank got to aid Ratchet in return for all he had given to the robot.

And his hands... he had never felt them without the thick leather before; although unable to feel like an organic, he could read the texture of the fur (soft, it told him, soft and thin, worn down from years of constant rubbing against the leather); the temperature of the skin underneath (cool, but not freezing, matching appropriately to the mildly chilly weather out on the terrace); the tension of the muscles underneath (he was trying so hard to relax, so hard, but the muscles under his skin were still taut with uneasy tension). Soft fingers flinched hesitantly before carefully wrapping around Clank's own, engulfing the robotic palms whole.

Even after they had exited the garage, Clank continued carefully walking backwards, leading Ratchet into their shared living quarters so that he could sit safely on the sofa that Clank had, moments ago, been reading peacefully on. Ratchet situated himself on it, every movement careful and calculated in a way that Clank always knew he was capable of but never got to see until that fateful moment. It was saddening, actually, to see Ratchet put so much effort and care into something as simplistic as sitting. He had never seen the Lombax so down.

Except for at the Great Clock...

"This sucks," Ratchet eventually said, coolly, as if it were a confirmed fact backed with indisputable evidence.

Sympathy pouring through his words, Clank replied, "Do not worry about it too much. You will have those new implants in less than two weeks. Miss Apogee herself guaranteed-"

"Not that," Ratchet replied, then retracted, "Well, no, I mean, yeah, kind of, but mostly I meant," He held up his hand, which was still connected to the robot's, "THIS."

An unfamiliar weight settled in the robot's core, "Oh," and he moved to remove the metal digits. To his surprise, the fingers around his own tightened, making release impossible lest his best friend be injured further, and no way in any theoretical underworld would he allow that to happen.

"No, wait, damn it," The mechanic shook his head, "Not _you_, you metallic goofball," His voice grew almost inaudibly soft as he added, "Never you," in just the right way to replace that weight with the light fluttering sensation of energy pulsing at an abnormally high rate, "I meant, just... needing help. In general," The lifeless eyes did not say much for his state of mind, but the way his ears tilted suggested sadness and, more prevalently, frustration, "It sucks, thinking back to when you were a little kid, barely able to walk, and realizing you were more independent then than you are now."

Gently, Clank applied pressure to the hand intertwined with his own, in his own subtle way of encouraging the emotions coming out. Ratchet's hand, in turn, squeezed back gently in recognition, enough to let the robot know that he would not attempt to slip away.

"Before you came into the picture and we were big galactic heroes and all that gunk, it was... well, just kind of me. And I was okay with that. More than okay with it, actually," There was a wistfulness to his voice; more nostalgia than actual yearning, but it still made Clank frown, thankful in a guilty way that Ratchet was unable to see it, "And I could provide for myself. What we have now wouldn't have even been in my dreams; hell, even having a ship kind of seemed like a far-off fantasy back then. And even now, I help people. That's my job. To need help... seems wrong."

A wave of understanding practically flooded the robot's processor. It took a moment for him to be able to file all of it away and respond, "I can understand where you are coming from, Ratchet. But needing help is nothing to be ashamed of. To be honest, you having never required it before makes this kind of... an honor. If that makes sense," Clank then frowned, unsatisfied with his word choice. But how do you tell your best friend that you are thankful enough for the opportunity to come to their aid that a situation such as this actually seemed to improve in his eyes. It sounded selfish.

Thankfully, Ratchet gave an ear to ear grin that was infectious enough for Clank to return it, even if it could not be seen, "Yeah, I get it, pal. If you were anyone else, though, there's no way I'd let THIS," Again, he held up their conjoined hands, "happen. You're lucky you're you."

"So I am," Agreed the robot, settling comfortably into the couch. A relaxed silence settled around them until, eventually, Ratchet spoke again.

"You know what the worst part about all of this is, though?" When Clank responded to the negative, Ratchet continued, "All the freakin' blueprints stuck in my head. Figures when I'm blind and unable to jot this stuff down that I'd suddenly come up with an idea to solve that coolant leaking problem the Solana Troops have been having with their cruisers."

It was so nice to have Ratchet back to making jokes; so nice, in fact, that Clank asked, "Would you like me to help you blueprint it?"

"...would you have to let go?"

"Yes."

"...in a little while, then."

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: Day 1 is complete. The prompt was 'hand-holding', but didn't I already make a one-shot centered around them holding hands and being awkward? So instead we get blind Ratchet. Yay! Why am I yaying that? That is a terrible thing to yay. Don't worry, though; he'll be better in the next prompt.

What did I do good on?: The Clank POV. It should be illegal to gush over your own work, I swear; some of these lines had me grinning like an idiot.

What did I fail on?: Staying on task. It took three hours of time collectively to come up with and write this. It took almost the entire day to actually finish it.

Random question for reviewers?: Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. A peck of pickled peppers, Peter Piper picked. If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, where's the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?

(Random sidenote: When I'm tired, I can say tongue twisters with no problem. WEEEEEEEEIRD.)


	2. Day Two: Cuddling

There wasn't really any time to contemplate the complete and other _wrongness_ of piloting a ship that wasn't the Aphelion. She'd been his chosen vessel since the day he fixed her up and nothing but _nothing_ would change that. But it was an honest to god emergency; she'd been too far to reach and he'd come back for her, he would, but he had to get home first, he had to get-

_Clank._

He should've seen it coming, really. Missions gone wrong were all-too common in his life. But it was a backwater planet at the fringe of the Galaxy, barely a civilized world and the threat hadn't seemed _that_ bad. So if Clank had a tune-up scheduled for around that time then surely it would be okay to go on his own, right? It was a pretty basic mission, after all.

So stupid, he was so, so stupid.

Of course it was a trap. Of course he would screw it up without the familiar weight on his back keeping him careful; keeping him from rushing; keeping him calm. Of course he would somehow manage to get trapped in a cavern, caved in and with little hope of escape. And as he attempted to push himself out of the rubble, careful not to jostle any of the limbs that were aching dully (not broken, just sprained, but it very well could have gotten worse from his attempts to dislodge it, he knew; he knew because Clank had told him so), he heard words, words not even intended for his ears, that invoked a fear in him greater than anything Nefarious or even Tachyon had ever said:

"Target One has been eliminated. We're on our way to Metropolis to deal with Target Two right now."

They were after Clank next. They HAD to be; it was pretty much one of the basic laws of the Universe that screwing with either one of them resulted in the other screwing YOU over. The old 'divide and conquer' technique. Scary how easily it worked.

Of course he was worried about Aphelion too, but she could look after herself, fly away on her own even, if need be. But there was no competition when it came to priority; Clank was smaller and these jerks had the element of surprise on their side. So Ratchet only worried about getting their fast enough. Or if he was already too late; he had been in those caverns for a while, exhausted and filthy and one of his ears was bent at an awkward angle and he couldn't get it to straighten. It could have hours, _days_, and a tune-up does not normally required extended visits, which meant that Clank would have been home an hour or two after he left. He had hoped to be back by then, but now... _now_...

Now he was wasting his time on hopes and wishes.

As soon as the clunky, too slow ship docked on their terrace, Ratchet hopped over the side of the vehicle and burst into the apartment, filthy face holding an expression of hope that was broken as the sight before him sunk in. Furniture was worn to pieces, anything technological that was small enough was smashed, and everything else was simply broken with fists and shots fired wildly. Open doors let Ratchet know that the sanctity of his garage had been violated, and a trail of papers torn or burned or both swept clean across the apartment. Lights were broken, glass was smashed, the walls had holes in them – holes! That hadn't happened in a while – and anything from the refrigeration unit had been dumped anywhere where there had not yet been a suitable mess; on the walls and floor and in what remained of a hanging lamp.

But what got Ratchet was the oil. Oil stains on the carpet, too much to be from anything in this room, too little to be one of the fueling units in the garage and it smelled not like normal oil but like soap and scented tea and miniscule amounts of coolant and _it was just so CLANK_. Numb and shocked and horrified, the Lombax fell to his knees because he was too late, too late and Clank was gone, _gone_ and he failed, he failed and now there was no more nagging and obnoxious giggling and stupid jokes and overgrown ego and _what was he going to do without him-_

"Oh my- what happened in here?!"

And everything froze. It took courage, strength, for Ratchet to lift his head and dare to break the illusion that might have come over him in his grief. But no, there he was, clean and shiny and confused and scared and _alive_. And Ratchet had probably never been happier to see his best friend freaked out of his central processing unit.

Voice choked with emotion he would have been embarrassed to show to even the robot, once upon a time, Ratchet called out, "P-pal..." And stood, taking short steps to reach Clank, stopping when he saw the robot's horrified gaze (some would confuse it for shock or spacing out but not him, never him). It was at this point that things other than 'your best friend might be dead' started sinking into his brain.

He was a wreck. His left ear was broken and various joints on both of his legs were at best sprained. His arms were sore from all the climbing and lifting he'd had to do and his left arm was twisted in a way that wasn't comfortable. He was filthy with dirt and dust and covered in tiny scratches that bled only a little and bigger scratches that had been dripping with blood. His helmet was broken and he had no weapons left on him except his wrench. He was a wreck. Que the nagging.

"What in the name of theoretical physics did you _do_?" Demanded the robot, horror being pushed aside in favor of that special sort of wrath that came only from someone who truly loved you, "Your message said that you had gotten an assignment from the Galactic Rangers, but I would have never imagined it being _'blow up our apartment and yourself in the most gruesome way possible'_! I mean, really- and oh dear lord, you are STILL bleeding! No, do not even try to cover it; I can see it dripping down your arm! Why have you not yet taken steps to fix yourself? I mean, really-"

Like clockwork.

Except this time, Ratchet wasn't zoning out or smiling in that 'you're cute when you're mad' kind of way. He had been overwhelmed; if not physically than at least emotionally. His nerves were shot and he was shaking like he hadn't in so, so long. So, with the small steps he had been taking before, he all but collapsed on top of Clank, taking the robot in his arms and holding him close as possible. Clank's words stopped for a moment. Then...

"It is alright, Ratchet. Please, stop shaking. Everything is okay. Please, tell me what happened?"

Never could Ratchet claim to be the best of storytellers under the best of circumstances, and between a voice that refused to carry more than two syllables at a time before breaking and his continued shaking, it took a while before Clank got the general overview of what happened. All the while the robot allowed himself to be held, even returning the gesture by placing one hand on the back of Ratchet's neck while the other gently combed through the fur on his face, cooling the heating skin underneath. His face went from the worry and anger he had worn during that rant to a face of almost irrational calmness that only told Ratchet that deeper down, a more unpleasant emotion was beginning to bubble. Rage, most likely; possible cold stone fear. Either way, when Ratchet completed his tale things remained silent for a moment as the robot was tugged closer to Ratchet, so that his essence could be felt by the Lombax in its entirety. Ratchet loved this; this unspoken intimacy that told Clank just what he needed. This, this was his best friend, here, alive, and he really didn't deserve him...

Damn it, he was on the verge of freaking out again.

Still entwined in his best friend's arms, Clank moved back to look the Lombax in the eye and began speaking, voice at a tone that made Ratchet sure Clank was holding back his emotions. He didn't do that as much now that he understood them; embraced them like the sentient being they knew he was (and damn anyone who said otherwise), but every now and again, like now, his voice would reach a deadly calm.

"I will contact the Aphelion and ask her to fly back. I am certain she will understand. And as soon as you can stand again, we will acquire some nanotech and seek out any weapons that had not been destroyed or taken. Then we will find the people who did this and bring them to justice," A spark of the rage crept into Clank's eye (and Ratchet loved that, loved that he could tell when these emotions came and went while everyone else just saw green lights), "Or if bringing them to justice is not an option due to... obstacles, we can simply blow them up as we do to pretty much everyone else we fight."

A weak, watery chuckle escaped the Lombax at that. God, he loved this robot...

"But for now," Clank dove full on back into the embrace, adjusting his arms to fall in just the right positions so that one could rub the area below his neck gingerly, while the other could press lightly onto the back of Ratchet's head, holding the embrace, "Just... relax. I am right here. And I am not going anywhere."

Ratchet tried to choke out a decent, not embarrassing response – and they would probably be here until he was able to, wouldn't they? – but only managed to shakily ask, "Promise?"

"I promise," Spoke the soothing voice of his best friend, and Ratchet let himself break. It wasn't like it was dangerous anymore; he had the best damned duct tape in the universe holding him together.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: I. Love. This. Which is weird, 'cause I'm usually critical as all hell of my own work, but I guess diving into Ratchet's mind frame allowed me to steal some of that endless courage of his. It's not like he'll need it! ...right?

And Clank wasn't at the apartment because he opted to get a buff and a few software upgrades. He was therefore delayed by a few hours. What luck, huh?

What did I do good on?: Squee, I love the PoV in this. I think I've mastered third person limited. I think.

What did I fail on?: I actually had this running in a different direction, but forgot what I was planning and just winged it. Still like it, but that's something I've gotta work on.

Random Question for Reviewers: Do you think Aphelion's happy being a ship?


	3. Day Three: Watching a Movie

Four days.

Seven hours.

Thirty-six minutes.

Fifteen seconds. And counting.

That was how long it had been since Ratchet had retreated into his garage, eyes glistening with enlightenment that only meant one thing – inspiration. Some idea, some new invention or upgrade or whatever, had lodged itself firmly into the Lombax's brain matter until he could think of nothing else. And while Clank could honestly say he was proud of his friend and the inventions Ratchet had created throughout his life, he absolutely loathed when Ratchet got like this.

Why? Simple. Because when Ratchet got like this, he absolutely refused to take care of himself. He had a small refrigeration unit in there, so he had food and water. There was a bathroom. But that was where it ended. He refused to bathe. He refused to change clothes. He refused to sleep until it became too much for him and he simply collapsed. He refused to spend time with Clank.

Of course, these complaints would never reach the ears of the busy mechanic. Any time Clank got frustrated enough to attempt bringing it up he would catch sight of Ratchet's face, tired and covered in oil, usually, but always smiling, so much happier than in any normal situation that the robot's heart broke and he walked away. Eventually, at some point, they would have to talk about these rare indulgences.

However...

Until then, he would allow Ratchet to do as he pleases. So long as Clank checked up on him every now and again, it would not be so bad, right?

Right?

Clank sighed, putting a pause on the movie in front of him. It had only been going for a few minutes – ten, at most – but he could not bring himself to pay attention. Too many memories of Ratchet making random comments that were funny and sarcastic while Clank tried to focus on the plot and dialogue were emerging from his memory banks, distracting him far greater than Ratchet himself ever could. Perhaps now would be a good time to check on Ratchet.

The door to the garage had never seemed heavier. Maybe it was just apprehension, but Clank had to use more force than normal to push the doorway open. His eyes fell upon Ratchet too soon; he knew exactly where the Lombax was. He had not moved in days. Did not even flinch as Clank opened the door and sauntered across the cement floor, not bothering to hide his footsteps. He wondered, idly, what would happen if somebody other than him attempted this. Ratchet probably was not as ignorant as he was currently pretending to be. The person would probably be face to face Ratchet's ire quite quickly.

Clank moved to the right of his best friend, inspecting him with earnest. Bags under his eyes? Check. Worn, filthy working gloves? Check. Oil splattered on his clothes that would eventually clog up their washing machine? Triple check. Used paper plates and dirty cups?

...oddly missing. Suddenly concerned, Clank piped up, "Ratchet?"

"Oh, hey pal," Voice a little rusty from disuse, Ratchet paused, placing his wrench down next to the hunk of metal (Clank was unsure what Ratchet intended it for, but his scans picked up a high energy reading), to look at Clank. Okay, so maybe he was lying when he said the Lombax refused to acknowledge him. If Clank went out of his way to talk to Ratchet like this, he was not completely adverse to taking a minute or two to converse with the robot, "You need something?"

Made blunt and tactless by anxiety, Clank asked, "When was the last time you had eaten?"

Such anxiety was justified, however, when the Lombax actually had to pause and _think_ about it, "Um... when did you come in here with that plate of leftovers from Qwark's big party thing?"

And then all emotion stopped cold, "Ratchet, that was _two days ago._"

"Oh?" He had the NERVE to just shrug off the comment, like the fact that the last thing he had eaten – and days ago at that, days! – was a couple egg rolls and some green casserole thing that several guests had said tasted decently had no baring on his life.

And suddenly, Clank's well of patience dried up.

"Alright," He snapped, going stiff and rigid; so overcome with his emotions that the signals going to his servos made them move at their most robotic, "that is the last straw. Get up! Get up right now!" More than confused, Ratchet followed the instructions slowly, "You need to take a break Ratchet. And I will not take 'no' for an answer," He added as the Lombax opened his mouth to protest, "I have tolerated these bouts of isolation before because at least you took the time to ensure that your basic biological functions were processing. But since it seems I can no longer trust you to do that, you will exit this garage now and eat something and," Clank caught sight of the way his arms trembled slightly, as if it was a struggle to hold him them taut, "you will relax. Perhaps you will join me in watching a movie?"

"But-" Ratchet's voice was caught as his eyes met Clank's. One blink. Two. Then a sigh, "I guess it wouldn't hurt."

It had not really been a suggestion. Forcing Ratchet out of the room would have been a hassle and something neither of them would enjoy. Ratchet just giving in made things easier.

"Thank you."

They moved out onto the couch, with Clank decidedly ignoring the oil Ratchet was tracking into the room and onto the couch. He would clean it later. But it was clear that Ratchet was still distracted by... whatever invention he had been working on before Clank's intrusion. Pizza ordered and movie playing, Clank watched his friend squirm, eying the portable device on the ground which would allow him to at least jot his thoughts down for later. But he could not be allowed to do that. He could not be allowed to do that because once he got engrossed in his work again he would go straight back to the garage, unable to resist the siren's song. And Clank could not allow that. Not quite yet.

So Clank began working steadily, making comments to break the ice as Ratchet had long ago, when they had first seen this movie together. And of course the witty mechanic refused to be outdone, so he responded with his own sass and soon the two were going back and forth, an unspoken contest to outdo each other with words. By the time the pizza had arrived, Clank was confident enough that Ratchet was enraptured with the film that he left him alone to get the food.

And when he returned, the device was still lying on the coffee table, untouched. Ratchet had slouched back in the couch, shoulders fallen limp and arms resting mindlessly on the back of the cushions. When Clank approached, he smiled lazily and grabbed one piece lazily, before making a comment on the villain's costume that Clank could not help but rebuttal. By the time the movie had ended, Ratchet was well-fed, asleep, and Clank's job was done.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Complex: Eh, wasn't so into this one. But unless their making hilarious commentary, watching two people watch a movie (or reading about it, in this case) just isn't interesting to me, and writing hilarious commentary would mean that I would have to think about what they're watching and dang it I really don't care enough for that.

What did I do good on?: I like the sorta internal conflict thing Clank goes through with 'I want Ratchet to stop because it is bad for his health' and 'I want him to stop because I miss him', though eventually the first overwhelms the second.

What did I fail on?: I kinda zoned out at the end. I just didn't find this prompt as interesting as the last two. Sorry.

Random Question for Reviewers: What do you think of Lindsey Stirling? A friend just showed me her 'Elements' video and I have the desire to draw fan art for it. Her music's also pretty good.


	4. Day Four: Going on a Date

"Thanks for the ride, Phea."

"No problem, kids. Have fun on your date!"

"It is _not_ a date!"

Ratchet shook his head, a mixture of amused and hurt by his best friend's constant insistence that this outing was not a date. And, to be honest, it really wasn't. They were supposed to be on the lookout, keeping their eyes (or optics) peeled for the assassin(s) who'd gone after Qwark last week. The fact that he (she? they?) hadn't made another attempt since put the both of them on edge. Ratchet took it out on his practice dummies. Clank just grew bitter with his paranoia. The fact that their relationship had been changing, subtly, right under their noses, certainly wasn't helping matters.

And it amazed Ratchet, how Clank didn't notice, or pretended not to notice. Light touches growing more and more intimate as time passed; deep, meaningful looks; a growing sense of possessiveness; all of this had been peppering their relationship for months now, and it was growing harder and harder not to simply acknowledge the changes and move on with their lives and their relationship, but Clank was just being so _stubborn_ about it. It was like their progression to friendship with the roles reversed. But Ratchet understood. Really. There was a fear behind the denial and it would be cruel to just shove this in front of the robot. No, better wait until he could accept it.

But sometimes it was _so_ hard...

Lending his friend a confident smirk, Ratchet grasped at his hand and ended the ensuing argument with Aphelion, "We'll contact you if we need back-up. Make sure to radio if you see any suspicious behavior."

"Rodger that, Captain Ratchet," The nickname – and resulting memories – resulted in an irritated scowl worming its way onto Ratchet's face as Aphelion flew away, chuckling. That left the two of them, Ratchet and Clank, both slightly irritated. So it would only be natural that Qwark would show up in that moment.

One hand on each hero – wrapped around Ratchet's shoulders and resting on Clank's head – Qwark gave them both the most large, qwarktastic smile he could possibly manage and spoke, loudly, "Hey, guys! Long time no see! How're things doing with my two favorite sidekicks?" Ignoring any possible response, he began leading the two away quickly, ignoring their annoyed stares, and whispered below his breath, "Boy, am I glad you two are here. If anything goes wrong tonight, my sponsors are going to have a cow! Now, I've got the security detail outlined here," A small portable device was handed to Clank, who quickly began scanning through the information, "but since we don't know who the guy is, he could still sneak in with the guests, so we have to be extra careful."

"Not to worry, Captain Qwark," Assured the robot with a polite grin, "We have everything under control!"

"Great!" The large man ruffled both of their heads roughly walking a way with a quick shout back of, "And enjoy yourselves! Remember, this is supposed to be a party!"

And so the two were left on their own, in a large room full of virtual strangers, with only each other for company. Ratchet swallowed.

"Well, is this not just marvelous?" Clank fumed, crossing his arms in anger, only to look even more like a pouting kid, "How are we supposed to pick out an assassin from all these random strangers? I mean, there was no bouncer, no guest list, not even anywhere we could obtain a decent view of the crowd. It is as if Qwark takes no concern of his own personal safety."

Ratchet sighed. A touchy Clank was not an easy Clank to deal with. Nor a fun one. He'd always been a little stuffy, sure, but this was getting out of hand. For his best friend's sake, Ratchet hoped they caught the guy soon, "This is a trap, remember? It's supposed to look not suspicious. And for the record, Qwark's wearing so much protection that the energy draw for three hours of use would power our entire apartment for a whole week. Now relax," The Lombax began walking away, tossing a casual smile over his shoulder, "I'm gonna get some punch."

Three cups of punch later found Ratchet and Clank by the buffet table, Ratchet nonchalantly sipping a glass while Clank kept a vigilant eye on the crowd. He looked too serious, too business-like, so Ratchet gently nudged him.

"Be careful," He scolded, "You look suspicious."

"We are Ratchet and Clank," Responded the robot in a matter-of-fact tone, "We would stand out like a sore thumb no matter what we did."

Which was why the duo were keeping their distance from Qwark. They were still in the same room, but a fair distance had been placed between them. Besides, between Ratchet's sensitive ears and Qwark's booming voice, he would know where the green giant was every second. Regardless, they still needed to blend in, look like they were here for the festivities and nothing more. Anything to convince the assassin(s) that they were having fun.

"Hey," Ratchet grinned suddenly, "Let's dance!"

Clank only managed a clumsy, "Huh?" before being pulled out onto the dance floor by his Lombax friend. Despite the irritation on his face at the unexpected pulling, Ratchet was grinning ear to ear. Dancing was something Clank enjoyed, even if Ratchet really didn't, but tonight it seemed their roles were reversed. The Lombax started off, slowly moving along to the groove of steady beats flowing under the hearty rhythm of a violin. Something about it just pumped energy through the Lombax, making him move, and he hoped it was contagious, whatever it was, as he grabbed his friend's hand and spun him.

And yet, even despite his apparent envelopment by the music, Ratchet was perfectly aware. Aware of how the dancers flowed about them, some more awkwardly than others. Of how Qwark was on the other side of the room, loudly chatting up 'his' victories. But mostly of Clank, and how he eventually began to uneasily sway with the music. Their eyes met, and Ratchet's narrowed before he began to up his game, dancing at a higher skill level. And like clockwork, Clank took the bait, stepping up his game to match and eventually defeat Ratchet's unique brand of style. Smirking, Ratchet upped his game again, and Clank followed suit as always. Except now he seemed to be paying more attention to his own moves than Ratchet, and the Lombax took that as a victory and let loose on his own dancing.

When it came to this particular skill, Clank was definitely the superior. But it wasn't as if Ratchet was completely devoid in the dancing department, and he let himself show it. Not so that he was working up a sweat; just enough to relax and let his muscles unwind. At one point, he slowed to take a look at Clank, see how he was doing, and was surprised to notice he had stopped dancing.

Instead, the robot was looking up at him with wide, unblinking optics, lower mouth plate dropped some. Ratchet didn't let himself stop to think about this particular look, though. He just kept moving, smiling softening some as he thought back to the times when he had watched the robot with his own idiotic look of adoration.

"Something on your mind, pal?"

Seemingly startled by the question, Clank adjusted his mouth to answer only in time for shots and screaming to interrupt them. On instinct Ratchet hopped forward, grabbing his best friend as his heart began thudding; he could hear Qwark attempting to take charge of the other side of the room, so at least that idiot was alright. The buffet table was flipped over quickly, its contents falling to the floor as Ratchet ushered as many of the dancers as he could behind cover. When he was confident nobody else was on the dance floor, he locked Clank onto his back and charged, firing shots towards the six assassins rushing through the place. Thank goodness for hidden weapon compartments.

Between him and Clank and Qwark, it took little time for the attackers to decide that the assault wasn't worth it and flee. A call from Aphelion told them she would be there in t-minus thirty seconds. Keeping an eye on the assault ship flying away, Ratchet grinned.

"Ready to take these clowns out, pal?"

"Consider it a date."

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP challenge do not belong to me.

Day four is complete! And, yeah, I wasn't really sure how to do this one, so I just went for it. It came out decent. My only regret is that I was unable to find a way to bring Qwark pain. :(

What did I do good on?: I don't even know. Um, nothing really stood out. I guess I'll go with the fifth paragraph.

What did I fail on?: The ending. UGH.

Random Question for Reviewers: Since it is obvious I have no idea what a fun party is like, will somebody explain it to me? Frankly, I never got the appeal.


	5. Day Five: Kissing

Clank was angry. No, angry was not the word. More like furious. Indignant. Outraged. Positively livid.

It was all Ratchet's fault, of course. The Lombax had once again gotten them entangled in some galactic scheme; subtle, at first, just a few missions here and there that had common themes the both of them put together rather quickly. And from there they followed a set of leads on a comical journey that involved traitorous servant-bots, massive wildfires, no less than three crashed parties, a quite irate kidnapped Qwark and a large death craft with enough of a power draw to destroy a few dozen suns. Just up and taken off without any of them on-board, watching in horror as the ship lifted into the skies, the unseen villain laughing over the loudspeakers.

For a moment, it seemed like they had lost. Once that thing was up in space, it would most certainly jump, and then their chances of finding it were sunk. And with Aphelion t-minus fourteen minutes away, there was no hope. And then RATCHET... that complete and total idiot, he decided to play the martyr and make a barely possible jump across what looked like a canyon of space, grasping onto the edge of the ship only just in time for it to pull up; certainly not long enough for Clank or Qwark to follow.

And just before he leapt, he had turned to Clank with a look of complete and utter acceptance – although Clank could scarcely determine it as such at the time – and kissed him. Just a little peck, barely on the side of his mouth, but sudden and unexpected enough for the robot not to be able to respond when Ratchet went running off into danger yet again; this time without his best friend.

The _bastard!_

Ratchet did this on purpose, he knew; he knew because they had been tip-toeing around the subject for so, so long. They had found a good balance between their friendship and this odd feeling that he had been more than certain was mutual.

Now, he was not so sure.

Never mind that distant nagging in the back of his processor that Ratchet's sudden show of romantic affection was done, in part, because he believed there was nothing to risk. Because he believed he might not be coming back. But this process was abruptly ceased, the resulting thoughts given a spot in the rustiest corner of his memory banks, where they could not harm anything. Because he would like to believe that Ratchet was a little less selfish than to leave him alone with these unresolved feelings.

(And maybe that was why he did it. To give himself another reason to come back.)

But for the moment Clank was trapped aboard the Aphelion, left with his unresolved feelings and a quite annoying Captain Qwark. Ratchet's nav-unit – still active, thank goodness – sent constant electronic bleeps, tracers with which he could follow them across the galaxy. They just needed to wait for the perfect moment to board.

And once they did, he would make sure Ratchet knew just EXACTLY how he felt about that little stunt back there. If he could only figure it out himself...

Qwark's flying brought them closer, suddenly, and the Aphelion alerted them to the amount of time they had before landing. The robot turned to stare out the window, and for a moment he could have sworn he had seen flashes of gunfire in the upper window of the much larger craft, and he grinned. Okay, so maybe Ratchet and these bloody emotions were as confusing and illogical as all hell, but darn it all if this was not simply the most amazing thing. Wonderful, even. Of course he was still quite mad at the Lombax, but something about knowing for sure that he was all right calmed the outrage down into mild irritation. He was alright. They were alright. Everything would be alright.

Then next time he saw Ratchet in person, he was going to slap him. And then kiss him. And then they would defeat this new villain with relative ease and go home and relax, because darn it if this had not been a long day. He was certain Ratchet would agree.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: MEH SHORT CHAPTER IS SHORT. I just really couldn't think of anything else to add. And its two-thirty in the morning. I'm tired.

Also, it's kind of weird since there's not an actual kiss on-screen. More like tellings/implications of one... meh.

What did I do good on?: Clank really has mixed feelings about this, doesn't he?

What did I fail on?: I hate writing short things. They always leave me feeling inadequate.

Random Question for Reviewers: Team Red or Team Blue?


	6. Day Six: Wearing Each Other's Clothes

"Incoming from the left side!"

"I see it!"

A quick roll to the right and the incoming missile flew right past, colliding instead with the wall behind the two heroes. With a loud, earth-shattering kaboom, it exploded, the resulting debris knocking the pair of heroes forward in the process. Ratchet landed on his stomach, giving a quiet moan at the harsh contact before looking up just in time to see another incoming missile headed straight towards him. He moved to dodge rolling and jumping out of the way, faltering when his feet hit the ground.

What the hell? Normally his balance was straight-up impeccable. The only time it wasn't was when-

Ratchet's blood ran cold.

_When Clank wasn't on his back._

Sure enough, the familiar, balancing weight of the robot was gone, instead replaced with an offsetting weight in his heart. Quickly, Ratchet's eyes scanned the battlefield, running over the craters and broken 'bots, each second of not finding his pal filling him with more and more dread until, finally, he spotted the form of his best friend, lying on his back, out cold. A few cold, dragging seconds past, during which the emerald orbs couldn't be bothered to look anywhere else other than Clank.

Only when another missile exploded, not too far from his location, did Ratchet hop into action. All conscious thought was squashed into a little box in the back of his mind, instinct taking the reigns. Protect. Defend. Fight. These thoughts motivated Ratchet as he charged forward on all fours, using the various debris of the battlefield to his advantage; years of experience in mountain climbing and brutal combat taking the forefront. The Lombax did not even slow as he scooped his injured friend up in his arms and ducking behind the nearest cover.

On the outside, Clank looked okay. No apparent hardware damage that Ratchet could see, and the outer shell had nothing but a few burn marks to tell its tale of hardship. No, for the most part, Clank was in good condition. Then Ratchet turned him over.

...those spineless cowards were going to _die_.

Gently laying Clank down, Ratchet peeked over the cover to glare at the large tank that had been reigning terror on the battlefield. The large menace caught sight of Ratchet as he bound was more onto the battlefield, moving faster with a face contorted into an expression of pure focus. Any robots that dared to get in the way of his being were neatly cut into pieces with well-placed slices of his mighty wrench.

The operator of the tank appeared to have noticed the rapidly approaching Lombax and started firing everything he had. Missiles, lasers, extra bots, but nothing seemed to slow him down. Finally the Lombax reached the tank and climbed, growling and snarling and making his movements maybe a bit louder than necessary, simply for the scare tactic. He never considered himself sadistic, never, but he could get pretty cruel when it came to Clank.

And then he pulled open the hatch and pulled the bastard up. They connected eyes for a fearful moment before Ratchet sneered and threw him off the tank, the attacker landing with a harsh thud. There was barely even a second of time before he jerked in surprise and fell silent. A single shot to the heart ended him mercifully quick.

Exhaling deeply, Ratchet turned and sprinted back to cover. Gently, he turned over the robot and inspected the damage. It... really had not been that bad. The latch that had secured him to Ratchet's belt harness had broken, and there was some minor circuit damage, but really that was about it. He was probably only unconscious so that his system could perform a reboot. If that was the case, then he would probably awaken right about...

"Ratchet?"

Now.

"Hey, pal," The Lombax grinned, keeping his voice soft. Clank assumed an odd expression, and probably suspected something was wrong; even though he couldn't really see or control it, he could feel his ears drooping behind his head, "You doing alright?"

"I supposed..." The robot trailed off, thought for a bit, then sighed and cut to the chase, "How bad is the damage?"

Blink, then a sigh, "It's not that bad. Freaked me out for a bit, though," Ratchet smirked, "You missed me taking out that tank, by the way. It was really awesome."

The robot brought his eyelids over his optics partially, squinting upward at Ratchet, "I will take your word for it."

"We really should get you back to the dropship, though," The Lombax gave his friend a hand, "I'm sure Al will patch you up in no time-"

"Unfortunately, that will not be happening," Ratchet made a noise of protest, but it was silenced immediately, "No buts, Ratchet! Turning back now will be detrimental to our mission. I can walk; all I require is some something to seal up the cracks and I will be good enough to go."

Clank dug into his chest compartment, looking for something until eventually Ratchet, sighing, dug into his own bag of supplies and pulled out a spare shirt.

"Here," He rolled his eyes, "Just take this and let's get going. We don't exactly have forever."

The robot in front of him took the fabric, eyes widening. Eventually, he nodded mutely and pulled the shirt over his head. It was way oversized; Clank had to tie the sleeves and end of it just to move around efficiently. But it did the job.

Running a hand over one of the sleeves, Clank spoke up with an almost hesitance in his voice, "T-thank you, Ratchet."

"Not a problem, pal," The Lombax winked – my wasn't today just odd? – and sauntered off, keeping an ear open for the clink of the metallic footsteps behind him.

He never did ask for that shirt back.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: I changed direction like, three times writing this. It took me a lot longer than it should have. Whatever. Food time!

Also, I think it's really beginning to show just how much I like protectiveness in my pairings.

What did I do good on?: This one doesn't feel rushed for some reason. IDK.

What did I fail on?: I kept getting distracted writing this. DARN IT, ADDICTIVE CAT VIDEOS!

Random question for reviewers: Cats or dogs? Personally, I have no preference.


	7. Day Seven: Cosplaying

"I just want you to know," Ratchet snarled under his breath with all the contempt and loathing he could muster, "that I hate you with the burning passion of a thousand suns."

If Clank had the ability to roll his eyes, he would have done so, "Oh, pipe down, Ratchet. You are literally being paid to be here today. There is absolutely no reason to complain."

"Easy for you to say," The Lombax replied with all the bite of his previous comment, "You're not the one in the waiter costume."

"Chauffeur."

"Whatever."

Clank sighed, shaking his head. His non-existent heart really did go out for his friend, but it was hard to remember that when Ratchet was being a moody little pill like he was now. There was contempt from all sides of the equation – Ratchet hated his role, reduced to less than a sidekick. His Director, for some reason, loathed Ratchet, giving him one of the most degrading roles in the show. And then there was him, seeing it from both sides, torn between his love for the sport (so to speak) and his love for his friend. Eventually, though, whatever was necessary won out and right now, it was necessary for the two of them to be oblivious television stars.

No sign of any violent activity so far... perhaps that tip he got had been incorrect?

"This is getting ridiculous," Behind him, the Lombax crossed his arms and leaned against the backdrop; an oversized promo cutout for the next_ Secret Agent Clank_ movie, "How long have we been here? The convention ends in a few hours and no sign of robotic attackers raining down from the rafters."

"Have faith, Ratchet," The robot snapped, although he could see where his friend was coming from.

"No, you know what, screw this, I'm out," The Lombax stood, pulling the admittedly stupid cap off of his head and throwing it to the ground. Before the fur on Ratchet's head could properly be exposed to the world, however, he replaced it with his familiar aviator's helmet and stormed off, most likely to get changed. Clank sighed and turned back to the line of fans eagerly awaiting him.

"EEK!" Cried came out from the audience and a part of him imagined Ratchet cringing at the sound, not even out of his regular distaste for the _Secret Agent Clank _but out of genuine discomfort at such a sound perforating his oversensitive ears, and smiled despite himself.

"Greetings, ladies," The agent smirked, giving a trademark smirk and a seductive glance at the audience of mostly females, "and my fellow gentlemen," The men in the audience gave little grins to each other, as if Clank's acknowledgment meant anything; and now all he could think of was how Ratchet would laugh at that. The usual spiel followed, the same one he had been giving all day every hour or so. The big promo for the new movie. Oh, how excitable the audience became, as always. Even a few repeats he spotted were gasping like fan girls (which they were, the Ratchet-esque voice in his head told him).

But this time, at the end of the performance, a large crash shook the facility, knocking the small robot off of his stool and- well, here was the robot invasion, right on time. The audience screamed and fled back, trapping themselves in corners (idiots, why did they not simply flee out the doors?) while Clank assumed combat position, eying the drones for a moment before charging forward. Ratchet not being here made the situation more complicated, but it was nothing he could not handle.

That was approximately thirteen point five seconds before he was being crushed under one of the gigantic robot's feet. He squirmed and struggled, but it was to no avail as the giant slowly squeezed the life out of him.

"Hey, bozo!"

Before he knew it, a large boot had crashed into the robot's head, knocking it back and off of Clank. There was little time for pleasantries, though; all Ratchet acknowledged him with was a nod before jumping full fledged into the fray. He had his hoverboots on, Clank noticed, and was using speed against these large, clunkly machines. Taking a cue from his friend, the smaller 'bot got to his feet and activated his thruster pack, soaring through the air above the 'bots until, eventually, he fell onto the shoulders of one and violently kicked at the head, hard enough for it to pop off.

By the time the two were through, nothing remained but scraps and a bewildered audience. Ratchet jumped off of the last remaining robot as if fell, ending up on his stomach. Before he could get up, Clank whispered to him, "We do not want the audience to freak out. Follow my lead."

"Thank you for your help, citizen," The bravado that rolled off of Clank's voice felt wrong; never had he spoke to Ratchet like that, outside of the show, and a part of him always loathed the look that resulted, as if Ratchet had just been scolded for something he did right, "The people of this fair convention and I are in your debt."

A hand scratched the back of Ratchet's neck, and he smiled shyly, "Ah, no big deal. Anything for a friend," The people were crowding around now, whispering, _Oh, it must have been part of the show_, "Now, off we go!"

"Wait, what-" Before Clank could muster any sort of proper response, he was being pulled to Ratchet's side, clinging to his shirt as Ratchet held him there with one arm. Slowly they began lifting off, and Ratchet's intentions suddenly became clear, "Oh, you would not dare!"

He only got a smirk in reply before Ratchet tore through the convention center at high speeds, leaving the mess of broken robots for somebody else to clean up.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: Hey, for once I did not procrastinate! Let us celebrate with orange soda!

I always feel really sorry for Ratchet when I play the third game. Between Qwark and 'Secret Agent' Clank, he's not really getting the attention he deserves. And while he clearly becomes frustrated over it, he doesn't call either of them out on it because he's proud of/happy for/does not want to get in the way of Clank and he knows talking sense to Qwark is like trying to drown a fish. Actually... it's been a while since I've played that game. Does that plot line ever really get resolved?

What did I do good on?: The concept of this chapter is something I've been aware of since the beginning of this challenge, so I already had this planned out.

What did I fail on?: WHAT IS HUMOR HOW DO I FUNNY

Random Question for Reviewers: What is your weakness? (Mine is orange soda and 'feels')


	8. Day Eight: Shopping

He was going to pay for this, Ratchet thought darkly. He would pay dearly.

Shopping was one of the many things where Ratchet and Clank had differing opinions. To Ratchet, it was a chore, a necessity. Yes, fine, just grab the first one you see and get _going_. The only place he made an exception was with parts because god damn it if he's going to build with sub-par equipment, but even then he didn't spend forever dwelling. Clank on the other hand...

"Ratchet, which scent do you like better?" The robot held up two bottles – one blue and one yellow – and sprayed them both. The Lombax's nose twitched and Ratchet snarled when Clank dared to give him that 'you are cute' smile.

The blue scent had been sort of soapy. Better than the scent of rotten lemons, though, "Blue."

Clank nodded and tossed the blue bottle into their already full cart, then turned to examine something else that Ratchet couldn't even summon the effort to attempt to care about.

UGH.

Unlike Ratchet, Clank's shopping was just like everything else he did; the perfectionist attitude took hold and he examined every single item until he found the one he believed gave the best in terms of function, value and style. As a result, when Clank went shopping, he was often out for hours. Usually, this was not something Ratchet minded.

Then again, Ratchet usually was not dragged along.

"Ratchet?" Clank blinked, placing the two new bottles he had been examining down and shaking his friend, "I understand this is not the most entertaining thing in the world; however, you can not be allowed to fall asleep in the middle of a store."

"Can't help it," The Lombax grumbled, slouching down further so that his eyes met his friend's, "This is just so BORING. Like, seriously, how do you stand doing this every week?"

Slowly, Clank sat down; it must have looked odd, two galactic heroes just sitting on the floor of the grocery floor, talking as normally as if it were there own living room, "Well," He eventually spoke after a moment of silence, "think of it this way; if I was one of those robots that needed daily tune-ups, you would do that for me, would you not?"

Ratchet was already nodding before Clank could finish the question. He would do anything for his best friend, "Of course."

"Well, that is kind of what this is like for me," Clank picked up one of the hand soaps, examining the back of it as he continued to talk, "You are the one who requires soap and food and most of the stuff we purchase. The only stuff a robot would need would be the items from the cleaning isle. I do not exactly find this enjoyable," At the skeptic look Ratchet sent him, he faltered, "Okay, maybe reading the labels spices things up a bit, but do you honestly think I would go through all this trouble if it were just me? You," Clank faltered, pseudo-coughing into his hand (odd; robots don't cough anyway, why would he do that?), "You deserve the best. I suppose that is why I put so much effort into this."

Oh sweet GOD this was so mushy, and yet Ratchet couldn't help the way he grinned or the way his ears perked up. It wasn't often that they just threw out affection for each other, and there was a part of the Lombax that always soaked up these moments. And sometimes, sometimes Clank did it on purpose just to see him grin; was that the case this time? Doubtfully, because Clank had turned to examine the shopping cart.

"I would say we are done here, anyways," The robot lifted himself off the floor, then attempted to help Ratchet do the same. That resulted in a hilarious toppling by the Lombax onto the robot, which had them both laughing like the dorks they were.

Their next stop was the hardware store, Ratchet remembered suddenly, and he grinned darkly. Because even though Clank did all this for him, that did not mean that Ratchet enjoyed being dragged down every aisle so Clank could examine literally everything. And this was the perfect opportunity for that payback he had promised.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: Ratchet is literally me when my family drags me out on shopping trips. I sit and wait for them to be done and then I punish them by taking forever to examine every video game the store has to offer. That is literally me. I hate shopping.

Also, random fluff is completely random. I hadn't even planned that, I swear. It just happened.

What did I do good on?: Domestic fluff. Like, hasn't everything else just been battle-based so far?

What did I fail on?: I don't think I've quite captured my complete and utter loathing for shopping in this fanfiction. Like seriously. I cannot stand it.

Random Question for Reviewers: If you could go to any one video game location, where would it be? I would have to say... The Citadel from Mass Effect. Seriously, that place is just beautiful, especially in the third game.


	9. Day Nine: Hanging Out with Friends

Laughter rang through the small room, each of its occupants sans one chuckling at the story while that same sans one just pouted childishly and crossed his arms.

"And then, if I recall correctly," Clank continued, ignoring the sudden glare from Qwark, "Captain Qwark attempted to retaliate to the perceived threat with a plastic spatula, only to discover that it had been Mister Zurkon running around the whole time attempting to find someone to fix his vocal modulator."

Another long laugh at Qwark's expense rang out, and Clank gave a short glance towards Ratchet. He was much less stressed looking, the robot confirmed, and was even prouder of his idea. Sasha and the Galactic Rangers had really been wearing him down lately. He had needed this little outing a lot more than Clank had guessed. It... was nice to see him smiling again. He had not done so in nearly a week's time.

The Lombax was stroking his chin in thought, though his face held a look of devious intent, "Wait a second... didn't that happen here?" Understanding dawned on the robot, and he shared a smirk with his best friend, "Hey, Clank, you wouldn't mind fetching the security footage, would ya?"

Miss Apogee was attempting to hide her laughter politely – as opposed to her dear caretakers, both of whom were howling with laughter – but nodded her consent to Clank. Ignoring Qwark's pleas, the robot decided to follow through with Ratchet's idea. Anything to keep him in a good mood before he was called back to duty.

Apogee Station's impressive set of security measures ("Though not THAT impressive," Ratchet once said with a smirk) were all controlled from a singular point in the station, where one could monitor the security cameras and defensive measures. This had always been a point of criticism from Ratchet ("I'm just saying, these things shouldn't be routed to just one computer. There should be remote activation controls and at least one sub-main system on the opposite side of the facility."), but Clank could see both points of the argument, so he simply did not participate in Zephyr and Ratchet's debates.

The room was a simple box, nothing too complicated, but not quite simplistic. Somebody without basic knowledge of computers would have no idea what they were doing, but Clank was more than adequate to take care of things. Climbing up into the large control chair – a swivel that was almost too much like his chair at Dreadzone – he began going through his own memory banks, finding the date of the incident rather quickly. With the number imprinted in his processor, Clank began moving the mouse, looking for the proper year to begin searching for the incident before stopping over one.

It was not the year that Qwark had made an idiot of himself.

It had been the very same year he had disappeared out of Ratchet's life with little to no warning due to the scheming of Doctor Nefarious and, rather unintentionally, the Zoni.

He had always wondered what had been going through Ratchet's head during those two years they were apart. He had never brought it up with Ratchet himself – he came so close, quite a few times, but whenever it even looked like the topic would come up, if he so much as implied something, Ratchet would get finicky and nervous and Clank would back out. He just... could not force his best friend to go through that, even if it did spike his curiosity more once the guilt subsided.

Miss Apogee, Captain Qwark, Cronk and Zephyr... they all refused to answer the question as well, though Qwark more out of fear of Apogee than anything. Whatever that girl threatened him with must have been horrible, though, because he refused to talk about it even when the two of them were alone. He had almost begun to think he would never find out what Ratchet had been through. And now... well, to call it a great temptation would be an understatement.

Paranoia spiked and Clank took a look backwards, towards the doorway. Surely they would not mind if he was away for a while, right...?

Right.

Spiked with nerves, Clank clicked down, looking through the security footage presented and pausing to watch some from the day they had first infiltrated Apogee Station, chuckling at most of the footage. At the time, they had been under such duress; they barely had time to laugh at themselves. Now that the danger had passed – long passed, hopefully – there was no end to the comedy he could wring out of their past adventures. Though, of course, he would never admit this to Ratchet.

Finally, he found a video clip dated after he had been abducted; several weeks had passed, but it had been the first one he had seen with Ratchet in it, so...

He clicked.

The Ratchet on the screen bared little resemblance to the Ratchet he had known before the Great Clock incident. He looked tired, dead tired. His clothes, the same ones he had worn during their first adventure in Polaris, now hung on him loosely. Briefly Clank recalled their reunion and how, even though he had been healthier looking he had still been underweight...

He was working on something. It took Clank a little longer than normal to recognize it; one of IRIS's batteries, taken from her central core back here for repair. Books and blueprints surrounded the Lombax as he worked diligently, never once letting up on his ferocious speed despite how tired he must have been. He did not even stop to wipe the sweat from his brow, despite having a cloth right next to him for that very purpose. His legs were shaking. Almost absently, Clank wondered how long he had been working on it.

It was around this point, timestamped twenty minutes into the video, that Miss Apogee entered the room. Although tired looking she did not appear nearly as exhausted as Ratchet seemed to be. Her strides were confident as she walked up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and ignoring how he jumped in shock.

The fact that Ratchet had not done that in years – not since their first adventure, when Clank had been too naïve to understand what it meant when an organic jumped at physical contact – crossed the robot's mind briefly, only to be filed back.

"Ratchet," Miss Apogee sighed, and there was a strict sort of disappointment in her tone, "Come on, you've been at this for days. Time to give it a break."

Turning back to his work, Ratchet replied less than optimistically, "Not interested."

"I know," She made that face she made when she was holding back an angry outburst and instead placed her hands on her hips, "and that's why I'm giving you a choice: come with me willingly or I'll knock you out and tie you to a bed."

Clank almost expected a joke from that kind of comment, the kind he would make with his other friends. But instead he gave her a glare typically reserved for the worst of villains, "You don't want to do that."

"No, I don't," She responded in kind, narrowing her eyes in ire, "but I will if you keep it up."

And he was already shaking his head, diving back into his work, "I can't, I just... this could be our only way to find him. The faster it's done, the faster I have Clank back," And boy, if THAT did not spark sadness and guilt in Clank's core.

But Miss Apogee was not taking no for an answer. Without any further warning she pounced on Ratchet, who fought back with equal further, growling and huffing and actually using techniques that would have hurt her, had he not been tired and she not been quicker. They exchanged punches and blows and kicks and eventually Miss Apogee landed a lucky blow, right in the center of his chest, and Ratchet crumpled to the ground, exhaustion and pain finally winning out over his stubbornness. Or, at least, that's what Clank would have called it, except...

Except he was sobbing, curling up into a ball and shaking with suppressed whimpers as Miss Apogee fell to the ground alongside him and just held him, soothingly rubbing his back as he wept. Still sobbing, Ratchet mumbled out, "Sorry, I'm so sorry... I just... I want... Clank..."

And then the scene paused.

Behind Clank stood Miss Talwyn Apogee herself, giving him a grim look that told him absolutely nothing of her mindset. She leaned over his shoulder and pressed a few buttons, making the security footage just disappear, before turning to Clank with a stern look. For a second, it looked like she was going to scold him or blow up at him or just be angry in general.

But when she spoke, her voice was surprisingly calmed, "Don't mention this to Ratchet."

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: ...the prompt was 'hanging out with friends'. What the hell happened?

What did I do good on?: ANGSTY ANGST IS ANGST. (I like angst.)

What did I fail on?: I really had intended to make this happy, I really did... but... I just couldn't.

Random Question for reviewers: How do I happy? What is comedy?


	10. Day Ten: With Animal Ears

"Hahahahahahaha!"

"It is NOT that funny."

"Yes it is, pal. Haha. Yes it is."

The robot pulled a face, glowering at Ratchet as he continued to laugh. But how could he not, with those large ears now glued to his best friend's head. Best. Prank. Ever.

"This is quite possibly the closest you have ever gotten to earning my contempt," Clank frowned, pushing one of the large, drooping faux appendages out of the way of his optics, "Are you actively trying? Because congratulations. You are succeeding."

"Ah, c'mon, pal," One hand moved over to bring the robot closer to Ratchet in a sort of half-hug, "You can't seriously hate it that much."

Never had there been a glare to contain as much contempt as the one Clank shot Ratchet at that moment, "Believe me, I seriously do."

"Hey, c'mon, you promised you'd let me get away with ONE," Ratchet's smile fell, barely noticeably, "So just deal with it."

Clank gave a sigh, but ceased his arguments in that moment. It had probably been cruel, Ratchet thought, to bring up how Clank totally owed Ratchet. But Clank had continued and continued to bring it up himself. Frankly, it hadn't been that big a deal. So he took a shot for the robot. He'd do that any day of the week for Clank. And yet Clank seemed so determined to make things 'even' between them (were they ever even? How many times had they saved each others' lives?) that Ratchet finally made a deal: Clank would let him get away with one prank, of his choosing, and then they would be 'even' again. The glue would come loose tomorrow and that would be the end of it. Back to normal life. (Normal? What a mockery of the word.)

And, to be honest, the large, drooping ears glued to Clank's head were... cute. Was that weird?

...yeah, probably.

But, Ratchet decided, taking a second glance as Clank attempted to fiddle with the fake attatchments, trying to find a balance from where he could see. Except the polymorphic material kept bouncing back into place, leaving Clank to huff in annoyance. Chuckling, the Lombax took mercy on his friend and flipped them back, pinning them to the back of his head with a non-magnetic adhesive strip. Before he could reach away, though, Clank grasped at his hand and pulled him into a surprise hug, whispering one final apology – as if he hadn't been telling Ratchet the same thing over and over again since – before walking off onto the balcony.

He didn't even peak outside when he heard Aphelion's high-pitched laughter in response to Clank's new additions. The security cameras would catch it all, anyways.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: I had zero inspiration. All I wanted to do was make something light-hearted to make up for yesterday's angst. You can see how well that turned out. -_-

What did I do good on?: Finding a way to make this prompt (Animal Ears) apply at all when the pairing was of a robot and a large-eared character.

What did I fail on?: I failed on the no-angst. Whoops.

Random Question for Reviewers: Do you like the sound of your own voice?


	11. Day Eleven: Wearing Kigurumis

This could not possibly have gone any worse.

No, Clank decided after a moment, it very well could have gotten worse. At least nothing was on fire this time. But still, this had been a HORRIBLE idea from the start. Naturally, it had been Qwark's... an attempt to boost his ratings, he said, though it had been quite clear cut that he was most definitely not going to win the election this time around. Some sort of colorful, televised party for little children.

Of course, things fell to pieces pretty quickly. Qwark showed up late – stylishly late, according to the super himself, but it still did not look good – which led Ratchet and Clank to do the child wrangling. Some of them were quite the annoying little brats. One had tried to get into the cake, there had been fighting dangerously close to the buffet table and Clank had to restrain himself from going after a child that had pulled on Ratchet's tail.

Shortly afterwords, one of the spoiled rotten children (he was not going to pretend otherwise – the majority of these kids came from privileged families) had set off Qwark's finale early. There had been panic and screaming from the confused children as they had scrambled; Clank had stopped the fireworks while Ratchet, to Clank's surprise, herded and calmed the children with rather little difficulty. Or so it had appeared.

And now, to top off this disaster of a public spectacle, the entertainment was late. Just perfect.

Clank sighed, shaking his head as he watched Qwark's half-hearted comedy performance. Ironic how somebody so unintentionally funny on a daily basis was actually the worst stand-up act in the galaxy. The children were hardly impressed with Qwark as well; they looked just about as bored as Clank felt. And where was Ratchet in all this? When the entertainment had failed to show up, he had gone off somewhere and had yet to returned. Leaving Clank to suffer in solitude. Sigh.

"And then I said, 'well, kiddo, all you gotta do is reach for the _stars_'. Huh?" There was a pause for laughter which just ended up being incredibly awkward, "Get it? Cause-cause he was a starship mechanic. And I told him to reach for the stars?" Qwark faltered, then sighed, "Do you children have NO sense of humor?"

And then he shoved off stage.

By what appeared to be a tiny Blargian Snagglebeast.

What.

"Ah, c'mon now," The large creature said with an indefinable accent, "That's no fun! You wanna make these kids laugh, ya gotta give a little!" And with that, it jumped off of the stage, landing on its feet on Qwark's back and causing the large superhero to gasp loudly in pain. Chuckles sounded throughout the room.

What followed was a slapstick routine that had the children in stitches. Even Clank was chortling a bit, and that was when he figured out what was going on. As the tiny monster sauntered off the stage, Clank followed, leaving a thoroughly battered Qwark to handle the children. By the time he got back there, the actor had already began to remove his costume.

"Nice save, Ratchet," The robot smirked. In front of him, the actor paused, but then continued as if he had heard nothing, "I thought those children were going to cry of boredom."

"Yeah, well," Finally the Lombax stepped out, shedding the costume entirely, "Somebody had to save you guys from Qwark's horrible humor and, as hilarious as you are, pal, I figured your self-respect would get in the way."

Clank only shook his head, "You realize you did not have to dress up though, right?"

"Eh," Ratchet shrugged, "Kids like performers in costumes better. Just... don't ever expect me to do that again. And this stupid thing ends in like... what? Twenty minutes? What else could possibly go wrong?"

Five minutes later, the two would discover Qwark attempting to put out a fire while wearing what remained of the cake. But that was a completely different stories.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: (Dies)

I had literally no idea what I'd wanted to do for this one. Like, seriously? Kigurumis? Or whatever they're called. Ugh. Anyway, I think this was the hardest prompt. Sorry if it's horrificness melted your brains.

What did I do good on?: Finishing this at all. :(

What did I fail on?: Comedy

Random Question for Reviewers: How would you liven up a party?


	12. Day Twelve: Making Out

"Dammit!"

Well, if this wasn't the most awkward thing in the world, then Ratchet didn't know what was.

The Lombax drew back, hand flying more by instinct than anything else into his mouth, light over the injured pink muscle. It wasn't the comforting damp it should have been, instead being smothered with something more sickeningly sticky than saliva. When his hand pulled back, the tips of his fingers were redder than he'd thought they'd be. Again, dammit.

Clank, for his part, looked equal parts worried and apologetic. His own metallic hand had mirrored the same path Ratchet's hand, covering his own mouth as though the things very presence was offensive, "Are- are you alright?" His words carried a worried stutter and Ratchet laughed despite himself, then winced without thinking as his tongue protested the action.

"I'm fine, pal," The Lombax's teeth gently scraped over his tongue, soothing the sharp cut, "More surprised than anything."

Slowly the hands at his best friend's mouth (Best friend? Was that really what they were anymore?) fell to his sides, less upset looking but still visibly shaken by the sudden turn around, "I am so sorry, Ratchet," His voice was just a touch hysterical, but that was good. Better than calm. Calm meant that his emotions were overwhelming him, that he didn't know what to do with himself. If he could still panic over it, then everything would be just fine.

Ratchet just chuckled under his breath, torn between feeling awkward as all hell and finding the situation genuinely hilarious. If this had been anybody else – if this hadn't been Clank – he would have outright laughed out loud. Instead, he took the more sympathetic route, "Ah, it's not your fault, pal... it's not like you forced me to... err... yeah..."

Clank just joined in the awkward laughter; this time there was absolutely no humor about it. This couldn't possibly get anymore worse.

And then Clank asked, "May I... see it?" And Ratchet decided that yes, things could get more awkward. Tons more. Thank you, universe, for proving him wrong yet again. You win. Sigh.

"Yeah, alright..." Ratchet leaned forward some and stuck his tongue out tentatively. At first the robot did nothing more than stare at it, slight remorse on his face, and they stood there in awkward silence. Then he reached, his hands taking a slow path, and it took all of Ratchet's self-control not to simply retract his tongue. At first the finger does nothing but lie there, getting sticky from the mixture of saliva and blood (though that wouldn't bother Clank – things like that usually don't). Then they start carefully moving along the grooves, occasionally lifting up and setting back down. Around the third time this happens Ratchet realizes what the little robot is doing, and tries his damnedest to follow the finger with his nerves, making sense of the symbols being traced.

_LOVE YOU_

"You goof," And for the first time it wasn't awkward, nervous or depressingly humorous scenarios that coaxed Ratchet into laughter, but just how much of a god damn _sap_ his best friend (because whatever they were, they will _always_ be best friends) was.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: What's this? Genuine humor? BLASPHEMY!

The prompt was making out, but eh... there are limits, guys. I can write the goriest, most descriptive death scene ever but I will NEVER write anything even remotely sexual. So, post-make out awkward fluff for all!

What did I do good on?: Getting out of this without actually writing any making out.

What did I fail on?: Finding synonyms for the word 'awkward'.

Random Question for Reviewers: What is a man?


	13. Day Thirteen: Eating Ice Cream

"Ratchet, I implore you to quite being such a child and just open up!"

"NO!"

"RATCHET!"

The robot huffed, narrowing his optics into a glare which Ratchet returned with full vigor, which was completely ruined with a sniff. If there was one time when he could honestly say he loathed Ratchet, one time when the Lombax was simply deplorable, it was when the Lombax was sick. It was rare, very rare, but every time it happened it was all the robot could do not to simply leave the Lombax on his own until it passed. But of course he played the part of the good friend, attentively staying by his best friend's side while he recovered. And Ratchet was always thankful when he was better, but in the meanwhile...

Well, it was a very good thing that Clank loved the Lombax.

Ratchet turned onto his side, arms crossed and pouting like a kit. Even though Clank knew he would look back and find this funny, perhaps even cute, at the moment it was simply a pain. Sighing, the robot made his retreat. When Ratchet got like this, there really was nothing he could do. There was not much Ratchet would eat when he was sick. He claimed most things did not taste right, and the few things that did he ate sparingly.

Actually, he had not eaten in a while...

Memories flowed through his processor at light speed as an idea formed. Clank moved quickly, grabbing everything he needed. Bowl, check. Ice cream, check. Medicine, check. Enough chocolate sauce to drown out the flavor, check. This was so unhealthy, a part of him scolded, but this part of him was repressed. If it got Ratchet better, then he could eat whatever he liked. Just this once.

It was with a cheerful smile that Clank sauntered once again back into his friend's room. Ratchet was still looking away, still pouting like a child. And now that he had a plan, Clank was starting to find it completely and utterly adorable. Suppressing the urge to giggle – because he had a good idea of how _that_ would go over – the robot started talking to his sulking charge.

"Ratchet?" He called, then frowned when the Lombax shifted but did not look back, "Ratchet, come on now. I apologize for yelling at you earlier... come on, now. You need to eat," Clank placed the bowl on the bed, "Now come on. It is ice cream... and I even added that chocolate sauce you adore so much."

"No medicine?" The Lombax asked, rolling over in his bed to look at the robot. Clank smiled.

"No medicine. Now eat."

Ratchet obliged, picking the bowl up and setting it on his lap. He lifted the spoon slowly, cautiously, sniffing the melting ice cream before finally opening his mouth and taking a swallow. Clank could not help but watch closely with an anticipation bordering on heart wrenching. Ratchet smacked his lips together once, twice. Then he went in for another bite and sweet relief flooded the robot.

As soon as Ratchet finished, he put the bowl down and gave Clank a blank stare, "...you put the medicine in the ice cream, didn't you?"

"That is correct."

"Damn it."

"I love you, too."

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: Ice cream! I'm hungry...

Other than that... just some writer's block. Nothing important.

What did I do good on?: Nothing. There is literally nothing interesting about this chapter.

What did I fail on?: Nothing. There is literally nothing interesting about this chapter.

Random Question for Reviewers: If you've read it, what do you think of the so-called worse fanfiction ever, "My Immortal"?


	14. Day Fourteen: Gender Bend

"You know, we wouldn't be here if you'd just _listened _to me."

"Ugh, will you just _shut up_?!"

The female Lombax merely widened her smug, humorless grin, "I'm just saying..."

"Yeah," Her male counterpart snapped back, frustration in his voice, "and that's just what you need to _stop_ doing."

"...well then."

Ratchet sighed, giving up on attempting to crack open the door between them and freedom. Instead he fell to the ground, sitting hunched over and giving the ground a thorough look over. His head pounded like all hell, his weapons were gone and, perhaps most disturbingly of all, Clank was out there, alone with that psychopath. The mere thought of it was almost enough to flare his instincts, but he forcibly calmed himself. The last thing he wanted to do was screw up in front of _her_ again.

And to think that she was supposed to be him.

Against the wall laid the female him, some girl from an alternate universe where the males were females and females were males. Well, they at least had one thing in common; bad memories. This wouldn't have happened if she hadn't insisted on their help to find her Clank. He hadn't wanted to; he'd had his suspicions about her identity but one doe-eyed look from the robot and he'd caved like the sap he was. And now here they were, trapped in a cell together as their mutual best friend(s) were about to be sacrificed to some dimension-hopping god figure.

"Our lives suck, don't they?" Ratchet laughed; once reality caught up to you it really was a bitch, wasn't it?

The female him had been glaring at him, green eyes seemingly glowing in the darkness of their shared cell, but her look softened at the near hysteric tone. She knew what she was going through; she had to. She was him, "Yeah, they really do," She gave a little snort at the thought, "Between saving the universe and everyone's butts..."

"...dealing with Qwark..."

"...being disrespected by EVERYONE, shoved aside as soon as the job's done..."

"...having to be a target for every single villain in the galaxy..."

"...dealing with all that 'last Lombax' bull..."

"...and being the only one to deal with literally every major threat," Male Ratchet sighed, "It almost doesn't seem worth it sometimes."

She hummed in response, closing her eyes to let the words sink in, "No, it doesn't."

Their voices were quiet, almost inaudibly low. To the two of them, it was like whispering. To the word outside, it was almost like saying nothing, "Why do we do this?"

Her eyes opened into slits, narrowed in contemplation, ears lowering until they were stiff and straight behind her head; a telltale sign of dark thought that the both of them shared, "I could give you all kind of answers. Because nobody else can do it, because we're good people deep down, because we love the thrill of the fight... but I think we both know that's all excuses."

"Then what do we do this for?"

Her smile was humorless, "For our best friend."

The words ran through Ratchet's mind. For our best friend. For our best friend. For Clank. And the more he thought about it, the more the line stuck out as truth. Maybe those other things were true but it was Clank, Clank who was the deciding factor. If he'd wanted to Ratchet to give it up, then he'd try. If he'd wanted Ratchet to jump in headfirst, then the Lombax would. That robot had him wrapped around those cold, metal fingers. And he probably didn't even know, did he?

Across from him, the female Ratchet was smiling. Not bitter and humorless, like earlier, but small and genuine. Curious, the male Lombax asked, "What are you thinking about?"

"The time Clank went after her evil twin to clear my name when there was literally no evidence that I was innocent," Her head cocked to the side, resting on her shoulder and looking at nothing, lost in her memories, "Even... even I started to believe I was guilty after a while. But she proved me wrong," A wistful sigh interrupted her words, "She must love doing that, huh?"

Funny, how he'd often thought the exact same thing. Hearing his own speculations coming from another person's mouth should have been creepy, but instead it was oddly amusing.

"Yeah," Male Ratchet looked down, "He must."

Seconds passed in silence. Then, without warning, the female's eyes met his and narrowed dangerously. He'd never seen that expression, but he recognized it. He recognized it 'cause he'd made it before. That was the only warning he had before she tackled him, all teeth and claws and punches and kick. The surprise quickly faded into survival instinct, however, and he fought back with equal fervor. It only stopped being a blur of pain and harsh contact when they were roughly torn apart by the guards. He looked across the cell at her, their eyes meeting for a moment before they turned and tore apart their guards limb from limb.

"Nice plan," Male Ratchet huffed out the comment when they were done, locking the guards in the cell and taking their keys, "But if we're the same person... why didn't I think of that?"

The female Ratchet shot him a confident smirk, like the kind he'd give Clank, "Just more proof that females are the superior species."

"...so then why didn't you tell me your idea before you tried to kill me?"

"...shut up. Let's get moving."

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: In which I genderbend. Kind of. Hooray?

Honestly, I've done better and I've done worse. But this is okay, I guess. Also, f!Ratchet and m!Ratchet would fight like cats and dogs. Not because they're different, but because they're so similar. Clank would get along with him/herself fairly well.

What did I do good on?: Exasperated Ratchet is exasperated.

What did I fail on?: Um... coherent fight scenes, I guess. I just didn't feel like writing one. Also, f!Ratchet barely had any personality, but that's forgivable because she's a female version of the main character.

Random Question for Reviewers?: Can you feel the love tonight?


	15. Day Fifteen: In Different Outfits

"Ah! Hey, watch where you're sticking those things."

"My apologies."

Clank narrowed his eyes, examining the fabric in his hands with a critical optic, before taking one of the pins in his mouth and sticking the fabric so that it fit comfortably against Ratchet's leg. Nodding, he backed up some to appraise his work.

The costume had come in pieces; a shirt, a pair of pants and a tunic, all of it much too big for his Lombax companion. The blue, silken fabric was soft, though. Comfortable, according to Ratchet. The pants, once hemmed correctly, puffed out past his knees and tucked neatly into the leg cuffs Clank had created. The shirt tucked in seamlessly, hanging off of his frame. The tunic, despite hanging too low on his body, was embroidered with golden symbols of courage and strength. This was not the apparel of a typical Fongoid warrior; this was the garb of a knight.

What an honor! To be granted such a position in the Fongoid society. A knight was not only a soldier on whom the Fongoid people could depend on; they were also respected members of the Chief's court. And even if the Fongoid's were not people they visited or even thought of regularly, it was satisfying in a number of ways to see Ratchet not only rewarded adequately for his work, something that very rarely happened in their lives, but entered into a position where his opinion would be respected, asked for. Besides Qwark and maybe the Galactic Rangers, how many asked the Lombax for genuine advice? He had seen so much more than most people would in a lifetime. He deserved the respect.

And now he was finally getting it.

"Ya know," Ratchet spun, looking at the costume from all angles through the mirror, "I wasn't too sure about this thing at first but... now I'm really starting to dig it! Too bad they didn't have one in my size."

Clank took hold of the other cuff, giving it one final look over, "That would be my fault. They asked for your measurements and I sent them ones from two years ago instead of getting new ones. Sorry."

"Stop apologizing, you dork. It's fine."

Clank sighed, eyes narrowing as he looked Ratchet over again, focusing more on his frame than his clothing, "You have gotten so thin..."

Ratchet's eyes narrowed in just the right way to tell Clank that he was enclosing on some dangerous territory, "Okay, if you don't stop that, I will _hit_ you. Hard."

The robot opened his mouth again, about to apologize, before abruptly closing it. They already had this conversation – twice, actually – and both times it had ended with Ratchet insisting that he was _fine_ and that _none_ of what happened was Clank's fault.

He did not remember. He did not know.

Instead of going down that rather dark road again, Clank backed off and told Ratchet, honestly, "You look good. Blue is definitely a color you should wear more often."

Ratchet rolled his eyes, but a large smile broke out on his face anyways, "Like I'm gonna trust the opinion of a guy who's only ever worn one outfit in his life... and that one outfit was a tuxedo."

"Just take the compliment," The robot admonished, then softened his voice as he added, "You really do deserve this honor, Ratchet. I am so proud of you."

"Thanks, pal."

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: I'm done! (Flips table)

Nah, seriously, I'm proud of this one, but it's a little hard to come up with interesting plotlines for all of these. Especially when they sound like they're specifically meant to be drawn. Luckily, this is the last of such prompts.

HALF WAY POINT HO!

What did I do good on?: Respect the Lombax. RESPECT IT. (Also, I did this in one sitting, without getting up to pace or play video games. WOOT.)

What did I fail on?: I suppose I could've gone a little more in depth... eh.

Random Question for Reviewers: I'm trying to come up with a name for 'Carpe Diem's sequel (A fanfiction I wrote earlier this year, in case you didn't read it). And here are some things I've come up with:

The Most Wonderful Thing

The Chase

Brand New Eyes

Directions Forward

Which of these do you like better?


	16. Day Sixteen: Morning Routine

It had been one of those nights.

One of those hard nights when the nightmares were worse than normal. To be honest, it had been a surprise. Things had been getting better, they really had; for weeks his dreams had been relatively normal. It hadn't been something he and Clank had talked about, per say, but they'd both been optimistic about it. Things had been good for a while.

Then it all went sour.

Ratchet had awoken, gasping, with memories of oil and blood and twisted metal and screaming still at the forefront of his mind. Oh, god. Oh, GOD. Talwyn, Sasha, Qwark... Clank. Taking a deep, shuttering breath, Ratchet looked to his side, where Clank had been recharging on the night stand. Something about seeing the smooth, unmarred metal for himself calmed him some, though his mind was still in a panic, and he was glad that he'd agreed to Clank moving into his room.

His arms wrapped around himself and he took another gasping breath. He would NOT cry. He would NOT break. He would NOT wake Clank. He'd already asked so much from the robot. His money, his time, his life. So, so much and what did he even give in return? Clank didn't deserve this, no one did, what was he even doing-?

There were no tears, but Ratchet was shaking pretty hard. Another deep exhale, another harsh inhale. Damn it, stop, stop; his hyperventilating would wake up Clank, stop!

"Ratchet?"

God damn it.

"Hey, pal," The Lombax sniffled, wiping at his eyes, "Sorry I woke you."

Clank didn't respond, taking a moment to appraise Ratchet's shaking form before silently crawling off of the nightstand and onto the bed, pausing a few inches from his best friend. All the while Ratchet merely watched, still breathing deeply but no longer struggling for every gasp of air. Something about Clank's waking presence... something about his eyes and gentle but mechanical movements... soothed him.

They stayed like that for a while, Ratchet's breathing the only sound in the room, before Clank gently reached up and began stroking the fur on his face. His breathing calmed more, eyes closing as he let Clank do as he pleased.

"Another nightmare?" The robot's guess was more so Ratchet could hear his voice than anything; the familiarity of it helped to pacify him. Ratchet nodded wordlessly, just letting himself sink into Clank. This was selfish of him, so selfish, but god damn it if this wasn't a wonderful feeling. The robot gave a sigh, smiling softly as he took Ratchet's face in both hands and looked him in the eye. They just stayed like that for a moment; no words, no movement. Even Ratchet's breathing had paused.

Then Clank nuzzled his face into Ratchet's chest, and the contact was cool, so cool. Dwelling on it was so much better than being lost in his memories. Clank didn't ask. He almost never did; at least not right now, not when Ratchet was so panicked. Instead he redirected Ratchet's thought with touch and sound.

"Everything is alright, Ratchet," He spoke, voice barely above a whisper; that was how Ratchet needed it when he got this bad, "Everything will be fine. It is just a dream; it did not actually happen, it never will. Just calm down," His hands ran themselves through the fur on Ratchet's back, "It is okay. I am right here. I am not going anywhere. When you go back to sleep, I will be right here. When you wake up tomorrow, I will still be here."

"You promise?"

"Of course," Clank smiled, "Now just rest your eyes. I will be right here."

Still holding tight to his best friend, Ratchet allowed his eyes to flutter shut. He'd only meant to keep them closed, but he must have fallen back asleep because he woke up to his best friend's watchful gaze.

"Good morning, Ratchet," He smiled, "I have been wondering when you would wake up. Go and take a shower, friend. I will prepare breakfast."

The Lombax smiled lightly, watching his friend walk out. It wasn't like Ratchet would've freaked out if he'd gone out to prepare breakfast early, like he normally did, and yet he'd stayed. There was a tinge of guilt – Clank had better things to do then sit with him – but mostly he just felt... happy. With a bright smile, he hopped out of bed to perform his morning ablutions. Face and fur washed and fully dressed, the Lombax met his best friend in the kitchen, watching as Clank put his all into cooking.

Again, guilt.

"'You know," Ratchet asked, "You don't have to do this."

"Oh, hush," Clank looked back and smiled, "If I did not want to do this, I would not. I know you do not believe this for whatever reason, but I actually LIKE taking care of you."

Ratchet shook his head, taking a seat, "You must be crazy."

"I suppose I am," And Clank's following grin was so wide that Ratchet simply HAD to return it.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: Huh... this wasn't as interesting as I thought it would be. Well, whatever. Also, by the time this is posted, I'll probably have been moved into my new dorm. So... yeah. Wish me luck in college, I guess.

What did I do good on?: Umm... the first half, I guess.

What did I fail on?: Only barely keeping on topic.

Random Question for Reviewers: Any advice for a new college goer?


	17. Day Seventeen: Spooning

At some points, Clank would wonder if this was even the same Ratchet he had known.

They looked the same. They felt the same. They laughed the same. They shared the same passion for mechanical repairs and flying. But there was where the similarities ended. This Ratchet, this Lombax who had saved him from Nefarious and rescued the Great Clock, was... wiser than his old friend. There was a heaviness on his shoulders, a shimmer of memory in his eyes. He was somehow more sensitive; ears always perked, even when relaxing and he got tense so easily now. There time apart had changed the Lombax, maybe for the better, maybe not, but it made Clank sort of glad that he had spent the time unconscious.

And while Ratchet was still nowhere close to a stranger – not by a long shot – there were now parts of him Clank did not know, would perhaps never know, and that was not a happy thought. Not at all.

This was his own little secret from Ratchet; his constant worrying. Even the slightest hint of guilt and Ratchet became melancholy, smiling softly before patting Clank on the shoulder and taking the easiest route out of the room. But it made him feel guilty... once upon a time, the mere thought of keeping something secret from Ratchet would have been laughable, but now things were different. They were still close, and he would still do anything for his best friend... but he had been closed off some, from perhaps something Ratchet was afraid to show him, and it would take time for them to be open again.

Waiting was killer.

Some days were better than others, but this was not one of those days. He had almost accidentally breached a forbidden subject, and now things were awkward. Awkward as all hell. Ratchet was sitting on one end of the couch, Clank on the other, and they were both trying hard as hell not to look at each other.

Clank hated this. He never had to do this before.

Eyes narrowed suddenly, Clank risked a look over to Ratchet. The Lombax seemed... smaller than before, shrinking in on himself. There was this vulnerability to him, this weakness that had never been there before, and it wounded Clank. It wounded Clank to see him like this, but it also angered him in ways he could not define. This new social contract between them was simply inexcusable. And... it was not going to change, was it? Not in the past few weeks, not in the next few months; they could be tiptoeing around the subject for years to come!

This was simply inexcusable.

"Ratchet," Clank spoke, keeping his voice calm and collected, "May I ask you a question?"

The Lombax uncurled himself some, staring at Clank blankly for a moment before directing his attention to the carpet, "Ah, yeah, sure."

So many things. So many questions he could ask about the past two years or Ratchet's current state of mind, but instead of anything more well thought out, Clank instead blurted, "Do you still trust me?"

Well, if shock had been what he had been going for, then he had most certainly succeeded. Ratchet's ears stood on end and all interest in the carpet had ceased as his gaze moved back to Clank, eyes widened. Thoroughly flustered, the Lombax could only seem to sputter out whatever came to mind, "What- yes! Of course I do! Why- why would you even think that?! You're my best friend!"

Best friend... hearing that toned down Clank's anger, if only some. It was nice to know Ratchet still thought that, even if he had changed, "You have changed, Ratchet. I cannot help but feel as though, despite all that you have gone through on my behalf, you do not hold the same value in me as a person you can confide in anymore."

Clank paused then, looking to Ratchet. When he found no protest, only a slightly questioning glance, he continued.

"I understand that you have been through a lot in the past two years – and I did not exactly help with that," Predicting Ratchet's denial, he held up a hand to shush him before continuing, "But since we reunited, you no longer come to me to talk about stuff I know is bothering you. Again, perhaps this is in part my fault," _For doubting, for almost leaving, for not trying to find you too..._ "but it still..." Clank paused for a brief moment, then swallowed, "hurts."

At this point, Ratchet's ears had flopped to the side of his head, "Aw, pal..." For a moment he looked torn, but that moment passed quickly before he leaned over and pulled Clank into a tight embrace, "I'm sorry. It's just... hard to remember that I have someone to talk too, sometimes. I've been dealing with all this stuff on my own for a while now and..." He sighed heavily, "I just... forget, ya know?"

He supposed so.

"The next time something's bugging me, I'll come to you," Ratchet leaned back, flashing a small smile. It would take a while to get used to in comparison to the old grins, but there was something undeniably sweet about it, "I promise."

And as they came back together, Clank realized that this conversation needed to happen. It should have happened weeks ago, actually, but he had been too dependent on Ratchet setting the tone of their relationship. That had been the past. This was now, and now he would need to dig into the darker corners of his best friend's mind and help him weed out the bad stuff. It would be different, a whole new dynamic of their relationship. But Clank found that he was alright with this.

It took him a little while to realize that they were not hugging anymore so much as lying on their sides, with Ratchet holding him close to his chest. He attempted to move – despite their new dynamic, he did not want to overstep any boundaries – and was surprised when Ratchet pulled him back, "I thought you did not like cuddling."

"This isn't cuddling," Ratchet mumbled, "It's... spooning."

"Ratchet, that is a subspecies of cuddle."

"Well... things change, okay?"

Yes, things changed. And not all changes, Clank realized as he settled into his new position, were all that bad.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: Well, this is... uh...

Okay, not gonna lie, I had something completely different planned. But before I could finish it, ancient voodoo magic took over my hands and made me type this. I don't feel like writing anything else tonight so, screw it, this is what you get.

What did I do good on?: Defeating the Voodoo Master with a shampoo bottle full of garlic sauce.

What did I fail on?: Letting that no-good-rotten-very bad man escape with his life. :(

Random Question for Reviewers: How does one get rid of a headache?


	18. Day Eighteen: Doing Something Together

Sometimes, it was hard not to wonder whether or not they were a couple at all.

Ratchet knew he loved the robot (what else could it be; this heart stopping, breathtaking emotion?) and Clank had claimed to feel the same. It had been wonderful for all of two weeks before Ratchet realized that nothing had changed between them. Okay, maybe not _nothing_... on occasion, they would make eye contact and smile, or Clank would say something that let him know he didn't just imagine the confession – which, he remembered now that his eyes were no longer clouded, was none too romantic in itself. It had just been a typical conversation, with nothing to signify it as anything significant other than the words themselves.

And neither of them were really the touchy feely romantic types but... they hadn't done anything yet. No more than casual touches, no really romantic talk... it was like it never happened. And the thought of it bugged him and nagged at him and he really, really couldn't focus on anything.

"Ratchet, watch your hands- RATCHET!"

The Lombax drew the afflicted limb back, hissing as he flailed it around. He had learned long ago not to suck on the injured hand – it was covered in oil, he would only get himself sick – so the only thing he could do was cradle it in his other hand and gently massage the area around it. Damn, did that smart.

Clank sighed, crossing his arms and shaking his head, "I told you. Honestly, what were you thinking?"

Before Ratchet could think up a clever response, his love-addled brain ran ahead of him and he blurted out, "I was thinking about you."

"...oh."

Too calm, he was too calm; a part of Ratchet, the more logical part, knew what this meant, that he simply didn't know how to respond, but a larger part was just not caring because _he still wasn't reacting_. He really should have been better prepared for this, he really should of, but it wasn't like this was a robot thing or even a Clank thing. They'd both been romantically involved with others before so why was this so... awkward?

Things were quiet for a very long time; eventually Ratchet dove back under the ship, trying to drown out all thought of what this was, of what it should be, of what it might become. And already it's working. If there was one thing in the universe that could distract Ratchet from Clank, it was ships. This one was a way older model; several decades outdated. No mechanic in their right minds would have touched it, but clearly Ratchet was not in his right mind. Perhaps he didn't even have one.

His mind instantly began mapping the machinery, taking note of the wires and engines, places where things were supposed to be and where things were not. It was all just common sense, really. Ratchet never really understood how people could not understand that, and he was glad to have a boyfriend (best friend?) that shared this passion. And, observant as he could be (He could! Shut up!) Ratchet spotted a small open port and gave it a look. A yup. There's the problem, right there. Nothing he couldn't fix; hell, he didn't even need tools. He could use his hands just fine.

Just reach in and- ow!

"Ratchet!" Clank called, blinking in worry as Ratchet pulled out from under the vehicle, cursing and rubbing at his thoroughly abused hand. Goddamn it... "What happened?"

"Faulty circuit; that thing's sparking like Qwark's brain after he thinks too hard," Ratchet snortws, already on his way to the bench where he plannws to wrap his hand and dive back into the project headfirst, "It's gonna be a pain to fix; we're going to have to dig in from the top, find whatever's leaking juice into that error and shut it down before we can fix this," A weary sigh escaped the Lombax. Yes, he loved doing this, almost more than anything, but when it involved stupid stuff like this...

"Actually..." Clank paused of a moment, almost unsure, before looking up to Ratchet with a confident expression, "Let me handle this."

"What-?" But before Ratchet could even ask what he meant, Clank dove under the ship, leaving Ratchet to watch wide-eyed as he attempted the repair himself. What followed was a worry fest, watching as the area under the ship let up with sharps and then died down. And with no physical pain reflex, and thus no reason to grunt or groan, Ratchet really had no way of knowing Clank was alright, that this was okay. He'd been electricuted before, sure. Multiple times. But what if he wasn't so lucky this time? What if...?

Just then Clank slid out from underneath the ship. He looked... kind of sort of ridiculous, metal exterior chipped and burnt to an ashen black. Green eyes watched Ratchet carefully, looking for something... maybe the same thing Ratchet had been looking for? He seemed almost impossibly small...

Without putting much thought into the action, Ratchet bent down to his best friend's (boyfriend's) level and placed a sweet, chaste peck on his cheek.

He loved this robot. He really did.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: Okay, now we're back on the level.

You know, at first I thought the prompt 'Doing Something Together' was put because the writer of these prompts was running out of ideas, but as I went on I realized that was not the case. By requiring the writer to pick something, he/she must perform fundamental examination on how the character's interact via a medium of shared interest, thus allowing one to further define the relationship on their own levels. That or the prompter was just being lazy. Hard to tell.

What did I do good on?: As much as I love writing these two affectionate, I don't think that'd change too much when they get together. So a fic that addresses that.

What did I fail on?: I'm not completely sure I captured Clank well enough in this...

Random Question for Reviewers: What time is it?


	19. Day Nineteen: Wearing Suits

So many things. So many things that he could have said, thought, felt, and the thing he chose was...

"Wow."

"Heh, 'wow'?" Ratchet looked amused, at least, but oh, how embarrassing this was, "I'm glad to see I've got your approval."

'Approval' was not quite the word for it. More like 'complete and totally made stupid by awe'. Ratchet's new suit was well-fitting, as opposed to his too small old one. It was simple; made of a velvety black fabric that Clank had not understood the purpose for until Ratchet told him that the softness of the material was appealing to organics. And it was quite a nice contrast with his fur, if Clank did say some himself. Even nicer with the blue tie and silken pocket handkerchief. He looked... good. Very, very good.

"Quit smirking like that," Clank snapped, more to save face and avoid further prodding than anything, "Your face will stick that way."

Ratchet only shook his head, green eyes twinkling in amusement. He looked happy, at least, which was better than his initial reaction to the suit and Qwark's invitation. Only the promise to make it a 'date night' had gotten Ratchet to agree to it, and that was probably the only reason that he was so happy. Or so Clank would like to believe.

"Well, I must say, I'm not the only one who deserves a 'wow' tonight," Ratchet's smirk faded to a genuine smile, falling to his knees and brushing cautious fingers over the suit that the robot wore, "I mean, you look nice."

Actually, he had not done anything special. Just taken one of his old 'Secret Agent Clank' suits (one that had no weapons) and thrown it on, after making sure it was clean. He looked fine, he supposed, but when compared to Ratchet, he was a tin can wearing a piece of fabric. Nice of Ratchet to compliment him, though, "Thank you."

"Hehe," Ratchet smiled, giving him a sweet smile, "So... what is the plan, exactly? We just going to spend the entire night at Qwark's self-promotional big party thing? That doesn't exactly sound like fun."

"It would not be," Clank agreed; at least, not for Ratchet. He could take it, he could take almost anything, but Ratchet would get bored quickly and a bored Ratchet was a... threat to society, to be polite about it. He would attempt to make his own fun, and that would not go well unless the walls were made of reinforced steel, which Clank would guess they were not, "Which is why we will only be staying for dinner and to see the first few acts. After which I... came up with an idea I believe you might like. How would you feel about," Clank ran his eyes over Ratchet's curious face, smiling small as one brow rose to the top of his forehead while the other ducked into his eye, "moonlight hoverboarding over the Natural Habitations Park?"

"That sounds pretty cool!" Ratchet paused for a moment, "And oddly romantic."

A loud, high-pitched giggle followed the words, one Clank recognized as his own. Oh, how embarrassing... "I do suppose it does. Ehehe..." Ratchet rolled his eyes, picking himself up off the ground and moving towards the patio where their chauffeur was awaiting them. Only when Ratchet turned and shot him a gentle smile did Clank's feet become unstuck from the floor, allowing him to follow after his _boyfriend_.

Wow, did that feel nice to think.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: Wow, living in a dorm is weird. When I'm engrossed in a chapter, I sometimes forget I'm not in my own room anymore. It's so weird. But anways...

I kinda like this chapter, I guess, but it's not too interesting. Again, have written better, have written worse. Also, Qwark. He is basically my excuse to make these two do social things.

What did I do good on?: Remembering to write this.

What did I fail on?: I really shouldn't be up now...

Random Question for Reviewers: Why... why is all my neighbor's stuff purple? It's kind of weird...


	20. Day Twenty: Dancing

"Ratchet?"

It had been a roughly quiet, normal-ish night. Just what they had needed after the chaos that had been helping Sasha prepare for her wedding. The day had been winding down peacefully, with Ratchet taking the time to destress with some lazy blueprinting. Nothing but a calm night at home. Or, well, at least it was, but the nervous look on Clank's face told the Lombax something different.

Concerned, Ratchet placed his pencil down and gave Clank his full attention – not necessary, exactly, but definitely appreciated, especially when the little guy got like this, "Hey, what's up? Something wrong?"

"No, no..." Clank fidgeted some, unable to keep completely still, "Just, ah... would you come with me for a moment? There is something I wish to show you..."

Something about Clank's behavior spiked a chill in Ratchet; it was unusual for him to openly be nervous. However, he still got up and followed his friend out of the garage and onto the patio that overlooked the entire city. Despite himself, Ratchet had to pause and stare over it for a second. Clank didn't really like coming out at night, but the few times they did, it was... romantic. Always romantic. The Lombax choked down a swallow, hoping it didn't sound too audible.

Finally, in the center of the balcony, Clank turned abruptly, at first just standing there awkwardly before finally beginning to talk, "I... was thinking about yesterday... you know, Sasha's wedding."

A repeated rendition of _oh God, oh God, oh God_ repeated over and he blurted out, "Uh, I don't think that's legal, pal."

"What? Oh!" Clank shook his head, letting out a chuckle that was too stiff to be natural, "No, no, no, no. I am not proposing," Ratchet's body ran over with the heat of embarrassment. Way to make this even more awkward, idiot, "I am simply asking you to recall the reception. You know, the slow dance..."

Ratchet recalled.

He recalled sitting in an uncomfortable chair at some large, indoor reception hall while Sasha and her trophy husband (because he was; perfect in every way, but not enough to overshadow her) led the way for couples from all over the three galaxies took their place in the center of the large room and swayed together slowly to the admittedly beautiful music originating from a band situated on a marble stage. Every couple but him and his robot. He knew there would be sacrifices when he dedicated himself to a robot half his height, he knew, but sometimes it just came back and... hit him in full. It had last night, and he had spent the rest of the night hiding his melancholy from his mate. But if Clank was bringing this up...

"I noticed that you were upset about not being able to dance," The robot continued, and Ratchet internally sighed. And here he'd thought he'd successfully kept something from Clank. Oh, naïve little Lombax, "So I went searching through some old things and I managed to find an old virtual reality helmet... put it on and load program X-J0."

Eyes squinted out of curiosity, Ratchet followed his friend's request, placing the old helmet (he didn't even know this thing still worked) and activated the program. The environment around him fizzled out, leaving him floating in the middle of the night sky. Below him were clouds, dark and puffed as if a lightning storm were about to strike. Despite that, the skies around him were clear, with stars providing soft, gentle lighting around him and the blue moon shining bright somewhere above his head. Just enough lighting to decently see, but nothing terribly bright. It was... amazing. Clank really couldn't have chosen a better situation to shove him in. He loved the sensation of flight, and the moonlight provided just the right atmosphere.

"Enjoying the view?" Ratchet turned to the voice, surprised to find his mate floating right beside him, "I thought you might like it."

"Clank..." Ratchet breathed, attention locked on the robot, "This is..."

The smile that came onto Clank's face as he spoke shut him up immediately. When he stopped, keeping silent for a while, Clank took over again, "I... do not really do much to make you feel comfortable in this relationship and I... apologize for that," The robot looked him straight in the eye.. literally straight; for once they were at eye level, "So, as an apology, I have decided to take you dancing," Smiling, Clank extended a hand for Ratchet to take.

It would work, Ratchet realized as he reached back, connecting hands with the robot. Height didn't matter so much without a ground below them, and years of attempting to figure out comfortable ways to show affection lead him to instinctively place his hands in places where he could bend comfortably. They started to spin together, slowly, and as they did music surrounded them, soft and gentle. And this... this may just be one of the most romantic things the robot had done for him.

"Ratchet?" Clank asked, attempting to smile confidently but just letting how nervous he was shine through. Without warning, Ratchet leaned close and placed a gentle peck on the robot's face.

Pulling back, he whispered, "Thank you."

Clank's smile turned genuine, wide and overflowing with the robot's joy and even if he made that expression anywhere else, nobody would be able to tell just how much emotion was coming off of him. Nobody else would know, perhaps ever. It was beautiful, in that way. He was the only one who saw the robot like this, and he loved it.

Loved it enough, at least, to ignore the fact that, in reality, he was spinning alone like an idiot on the balcony.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: It's getting harder and harder to come up with interesting notes, especially when I'm playing most of these by ear. I can't even pick out my own weaknesses and strengths anymore. There's just not enough to talk about.

Also, for some reason I always imagine Sasha having a token/trophy boyfriend/husband after Ratchet. Not sure why...

What did I do good on?: Clank being the romantic stud (but still awkward... why must all my romance be awkward?)

What did I fail on?: I need to stop getting distracted.

Random Question for Reviewers: What do you think about kilts?


	21. Day Twenty-One: Cooking Together

"Alright, so... flour?"

"Yes. Three cups full, if you would."

Robo-chef had been an inspiration for Clank. He had no taste buds, like most robots, but something about the precise, chemistry like in nature but with an outcome his organic friend and roommate could enjoy. Not to mention it was an activity the both of them could enjoy together. Though Ratchet did not appear to enjoy cooking like he did, he, on occasion, would swallow his pride and join Clank in the kitchen. And even if the Lombax did not help nearly as much as he participated in making a mess, the few times he would join in were something Clank would consider a treat.

The Lombax had first begun to join in shortly after their second adventure. He had seemed nervous – or as nervous as Ratchet could be – but without even asking he had walked in, looked at the recipe card, and started grabbing things from the shelves. Although surprised at the time, looking back it had been no real shock. It had been his first break-up, with his first girlfriend, and Ratchet had been playing the role of the supportive best friend. He would not realize that until a year and a half later, when he would be helping Ratchet with his first heartbreak.

Then, he had offered to bake Ratchet whatever he liked (a silly proposition, for a broken heart, but it had been all he could think of at the time) and had been pleasantly surprised when Ratchet offered to help. Once again, it should not have been; he had needed the social contact, and probably would have gone knitting if Clank had offered it, but that had not been the case. Instead they had spent the rest of the day in the kitchen, cooking up anything Ratchet could think of. They had ended up a mess, covered in dough and flour and tired, but the reward was well worth it. To see Ratchet so genuinely happy after suffering was more than worth the night he had spent cleaning.

Yes, cooking had become something of a comfort activity for them to do together. Any time either of them were upset the other just pitched in, no questions asked. When they did this the house would be temporally filled with sweets and treats, which Ratchet would eat in a few days if it were not for Clank's watchful eye.

This time was no different. Both had been pretty stressed after their latest adventure, and cooking had been Clank's first suggestion to unwind. Ratchet had readily agreed. And he was not too worried about making a mess this time. If they did, they could always use their new vacuum... hehehe...

"Bah!"

Clank blinked, turning from the recipe card he had been examining to Ratchet. The poor Lombax had somehow managed to dump the entire container of flour on himself, fur becoming completely coated in the powdery substance. Oddly enough, Clank's first reaction was not to help him or laugh at him, but just to stare, "Ratchet, you look..." _CuteAdorableHuggableSweetLovable_.

"Yeah, yeah, ridiculous, I know," Ratchet attempted to brush some of the white powder off of his clothing, only to sigh in frustration and throw his hands up, "Ugh, I give up. You go get more flour, I'm going to take a shower... did that rhyme? Damn it," The Lombax feigned a choking sound, "It's annoying enough when Qwark pulls that kind of stuff. Ugh, whatever."

And the Lombax walked off, head through thighs still thoroughly coated in white. All the while Clank just watched, unable to comment jokingly on his friend's appearance, as per the norm.

Since when was Ratchet _cute_?

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: Guys. _GUYS_. There is a lake not far from my dorm and it's so hot that I just want to JUMP in it. Forever. UGHGHGHGHGHG.

What did I do good on?: Every (romantic) relationship has to start somewhere, right?

What did I fail on?: I notice these prompt responses are getting more and more mindless...

Random Question for Reviewers: How shall I compare thee to a summer's day?


	22. Day Twenty-Two: In Battle

When it came down to it, getting this far had been really nothing more than luck.

Even fully equipped with weapons and gadgets, getting through this oversized weapon without Clank had been a nightmare. Every jump had been off, every pit had put a spike of fear in his gut, at every turn his ears were pricked up. He'd done other missions, yeah, but there was something just _wrong_ about going at this without Clank.

_Clank..._

Just thinking the name reminded him of what an idiot he'd been.

_Kissing_ him? Just before a suicidal mission? Not only was that the single most cliché thing Ratchet had heard in quite some time, it was also a one-way trip to losing the best friend he could ever ask for. He could just see it now. Clank would try to act normal, for both their sakes. But it wouldn't work. Things would get awkward and Clank would leave him alone, all alone, just like he was before and nothing he could ever say or do would fix it.

Unless he died. But that wouldn't be very fair to the galaxy that still needed saving, would it?

None the less, it would all be for naught anyway if Ratchet didn't get to that control core in the next... fifteen minutes, according to his nav-unit. Huffing, the Lombax kept moving forward, feet slapping the ground hard and pace slowing unconsciously. He couldn't help the physical disability after not sleeping for days but still cursed his body and forced it back into full gear. He could collapse and sleep for two days after this was all said and done but he needed to keep moving, to just keeping moving, don't let them win... it was practically routine at this point.

So when he came across a small battalion scattered throughout the hallway he was sprinting through, he merely grasped his wrench by the hilt and smacked them as he ran past, knocking off their heads or knocking them offline. It was a matter of 'keep moving or your collapse' that kept Ratchet moving more than anything else. He could normally depend on Clank to scan them over, make sure they were really dead, but Clank wasn't here, was he?

_It's just you, Ratchet. Get used to it._

Quickly turning a corner, the Lombax blinked. Wow. Central control, and with twelve minutes to spare. You think that the path would've been more convoluted or something. It should've put Ratchet at ease.

It didn't.

Erring on the side of caution, Ratchet made a slow journey into the room, walking forward and holding his weapon tight. Something was going to happen soon. In fact, it would happen right about...

_Slam!_

Now. Like clockwork.

This week's flavor of evil made some large, grand speech about finally getting revenge on whom wronged him and blah blah blah. Truthfully, Ratchet couldn't be bothered to pay attention. Now that he wasn't moving things were actually really... really... blurry. Had he been hit? Now that the adrenaline had worn off he was feeling quite a bit of pain from his upper leg. When had that happened? Ugh, did his head hurt...

"Are you even paying attention, you miserable excuse of a hero? BAH!"

The bad guy photo print screeched and hollered before beginning the long awaited final attack. Once Ratchet began moving again, the pain faded. All he could focus on were the attacks, the patterns, the way that abomination of a robot moved. Somewhere down the line, it became too easy and Ratchet tried to change up strategy. Bad move. One misstep and he triggered a secret beta strategy, one that sent missiles flying straight at him. All he could do was dodge out of the way, landing belly down on the cold metal ground.

"RATCHET!"

The Lombax's ears perked up. He knew that voice. He'd know that voice anywhere...

"Clank?"

"You are most certainly right it is!" The robot sounded none too happy, and Ratchet winced in response. A sour Clank is not a fun Clank to deal with. Still, he had every right to be, "Now get up, Lombax! According to my scans, this thing has a structural weakness near the base! Oh, hold on..." There were some sounds, a rope being slid down, a pair of feet making haste to reach him and then the sides of his face were cold and Clank stared him straight in the eye, "Come on, Ratchet, I know you are not in the best condition, but we can win this! Together, as a team."

Just like always.

With Clank back on his back, things were suddenly much clearer. His weight not only balanced Ratchet out but acted as a reminder that he was not alone anymore, that he couldn't afford to be careless. It was as if a whole other section of his mind had opened up simply from Clank _being_ there. And why not? The robot was his best friend, his partner and he love-

He really appreciated him.

When all was over, the robot crushed (as it should well have been – he'd seen refrigeration units with better motor control) and the giant planet destroying ship blown up all proper like, the Lombax turned to his friend, maybe to apologize or comment or thank him, only to receive a sharp slap in the face.

"Never. Do that. Again!" Clank snapped, anger radiating off of him, but before Ratchet could agree to that he was pulled in for a sudden, surprise kiss that lasted just long enough for his brain to catch up before Clank let him go, "Do you realize how worried I was?"

"Sorry pal," Ratchet smiled, flushed under his fur, "No more suicidal solo missions."

Clank nodded, "You are either with me or you do not go at all, is that clear?"

"Crystal!" Ratchet responded, before pulling the robot back for a third kiss. Not that he didn't enjoy the first two, but maybe one more wouldn't hurt... or two... or three...

"Ah, guys?" In the back seat, Qwark fidgeted nervously, "Could you please withhold on sloppy make outs until I'm well out of the perimeter? Ah, guys? Not to complain or anything, but who's flying the ship? Guys!"

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: College is exactly what they told me it would be: tiring. Now, off to sleepy-byes! Got classes in the morning.

Also, random continuation (from the 'Kiss' prompt) is random.

What did I do good on?: I'm not typically a fan of Qwark's humor, but when he's funny, he's funny.

What did I fail on?: Lazy boss fight is lazy.

Random Question for Reviewers: Favorite boss music. Go.


	23. Day Twenty-Three: Arguing

This was not supposed to happen.

The apartment was empty; nothing had been moved in anyway, but suddenly it was no longer cozy. It was large, too large, too much space and not enough people. But Clank could fill it with as many people as he liked and it still would be too empty, too empty without the familiar light trot of softly padded feet and the friendly, bright grin of his Lombax.

"_What part of 'out' don't you understand already?"_

What had he done? What had he _done_?

The question was purely rhetorical, despite bouncing around his processor without control or direction. He knew perfectly well what he had done, and it was all his fault. _All his fault_. He could not blame Ratchet for running off like he had, never would dream of it. _But still..._

It was not like he had not had a viable reason to be angry. He did, he had every right as Ratchet's best friend and lover to question his whereabouts, and the same answer of 'around' over and over again had been grating on his nerves. He did not like starting arguments with Ratchet, but that had been a conversation they had to have, especially when his Lombax returned that night with blood trailing down his head. Except... there had been better ways of going about it.

"_Well pardon me if I worry when you come home BLEEDING!"_

Sighing, Clank laid back down on the couch. His and Ratchet's room... he could not even look at it right now. Actually, it was a tad painful even being in the apartment, but where else would he go? Where had Ratchet gone? Of that, Clank was unsure, and he worried, he did, but he deserved every moment of fear this absence had placed on him. He deserved this, he deserved this...

There were probably better things for him to do than stare up at the ceiling. Anything else would have been preferable, maybe even help to take his mind off of Ratchet, but he lacked the energy to move. Guilt was a funny thing. He had felt it before, true, but never this bad, never to this degree. He felt alone and scared and tired and confused and hurt and hurting for his best friend. Absent memories, good ones, came flooding to the surface, coaxing a melancholy smile with each remembered image. There might not be more of these, not if he could not find and apologize to Ratchet, so treasuring the ones he had now was important.

"_You know, you're kind of being impossible right now."_

"_Not so easy to deal with, is it?"_

He had not taken anything when he left. That was good in some ways (because for every object, there was a memory) and bad in others (too many memories, too many, how would he deal with this?). A holographic game system Ratchet had wasted hours completing every level on, hundreds of movies watched and critiqued together, the chess set they would play together, and he would always win, always...

Clank directed his attention back up to the ceiling. Too many memories, too much data, and he was shaking harshly, craving contact with fur he may never feel again. He had not meant it, he had not, why had he spoken when the words did not match what he felt?

"_Look, it's NOTHING, alright? Now how about we just-"_

"_Stop. Just... stop. I am sick and tired of this, Ratchet. Sick and tired of constantly worrying about you and being fed excuses and lies. I give you my full support and trust and respect and you go and pull things like this and it is too much, Ratchet, too much for me or anybody else to handle but, lucky me, I am obligated! I have no choice but to do this!"_

Clank shuttered, grasping a nearby pillow and hugging it close. It was not fuzzy enough to be a decent substitute for Ratchet, and too course, but he kept it close all the same. The contact helped some. Burying his face in it, Clank questioned again what he had been thinking. What had he been thinking to say that to Ratchet, whom had been so scared of their relationship and closeness? What had he been thinking to tell that to somebody who had abandonment issues?

He had not been thinking, in the end. He had been angry. He had been careless.

"_...wait, you... you didn't want...?"_

"_..."_

"_Well, don't bother worrying anymore, 'pal'. I'm not your obligation anymore."_

He had made a huge mistake.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: To be continued...

...in case I die spontaneously from having to write that (I hate writing arguments like this between romantic couples, I so do), I leave all my possessions to my cat. May she carry on the Authoress legacy.

What did I do good on?: I always like stories from a 'looking back' perspective like this.

What did I fail on?: Characterization

Random Question for Reviewers: What's one embarrassingly childish thing you keep on you at all times. Me? I have a stuffed ghost my best friend gave me.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four: Making Up

This was all his fault.

Ratchet sighed, turning onto his side. He probably should have just told Clank about the extra missions (_didn't want you to worry; can't bring you with me, can't let you be __**hurt**_). He'd probably overreacted. He'd probably blown that out of proportion. He'd probably chased Clank out of his life for good.

...on the other hand, he was kind of cross at the robot at the moment. That had been his thought process since escaping their apartment; a constant fluctuation between some sort of sadness and red hot anger. How could this have happened? He should've seen it coming. He should've guessed, should've taken a hint, should've realized _something_. Maybe he an idiot after all, to not realize that he was an _obligation_.

The word tasted bitter. _Obligation_. Clank HAD to be with him, or else he'd go off the deep end or forget to breathe or something stupid like that. _Obligation_. Maybe he wouldn't fight as well, or maybe Clank just felt sorry for him. _Obligation._ Maybe there had not been a relationship in the first place. Maybe he'd imagined it.

"_Lucky me, I am OBLIGATED."_

"Stop," He had meant it to be a command to the voices in his head feeding him lies and pain, but it came out of his mouth so, so weak, "Just... stop."

The Aphelion slowed.

That's right, Ratchet asked her to pilot herself, didn't he? Just to drive around for a while, let him wallow in misery and think things through. Not that it was doing any sort of good, but there was no way he could drive in his condition, anyways. He needed to calm down, really, and from the words Aphelion was speaking ("You need to calm down, dear. Please put your gloves back on, you're hurting yourself...") he needed to do it soon. What could he do? Fighting was out, what would he fight that could possibly take all this pain? If he'd had his tools, he'd build something...

Tools. Weapons. All of it was back at the apartment with Clank, anyways. Damn it, he had to go back, didn't he?

The thought scared him, because what would Clank say? Would he still be angry? Would he apologize, attempt to reestablish a friendship of some kind? Ratchet wasn't sure, but his blood ran cold at the thought of _no more Clank_. Of all possibilities, that was the worst.

...well, might as well get it over with, right? It had been a good six hours or so. Plenty of time for things to cool off, "Turn around, Phea. We're going home."

'Home', if it could still be called that, wasn't too far off; only a half-hour's flight. Maybe they'd been flying in circles since they'd left and maybe he should've been annoyed at her, assuming this would just blow over and maybe she was right, maybe but now all he could think was, '_ohgodohgodohgodwhatamievengoingtosay?' _Or something of that nature.

After the gentle landing (gentler than normal, on account of her extremely decreased speed), Ratchet hopped out and the Lombax gulped, making his way inside. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but the complete and total normalcy of the place seemed off. Like nothing had happened in the past six hours and maybe it hadn't for him.

"Ratchet?"

The Lombax froze.

Clank was peaking over the edge of the couch (it was still adorable how he was only barely able to see over it) and his stare was wide-eyed in that incredulous kind of way, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. His voice kept the Lombax still as Clank himself climbed the sofa, hopping onto the floor but not moving to get too close. Maybe a respect thing? A fear thing? Or maybe he just didn't want to get close anymore?

They stayed like that, rooted to the linoleum floor, until Clank spoke first.

Although, to be fair, Ratchet had little idea of what he was actually saying.

"RatchetIamso,sososorryyouhavenoideahowmuchi'vemis sedyouwherehaveyouevenbeennodonotanswerthatidonotc are anymorejustpleasecomebackididnotmeanit,notasinglew ordandiamsoverysorrypleasestaypleasedonotleaveIsha lldowhateveryouwishIswearjustpleaseacceptmyapology **you are not an obligation**youaremybestfriendandIloveyousomuchmorethanyoucani magineIamso,soverysorry-"

You are not an obligation.

**You are not an obligation.**

Ratchet wasn't sure whether or not that was the truth but suddenly, suddenly it didn't quite matter. Anger and sadness simmered down and the hurt cooled, not completely, but enough for him to race across the room and take his best friend in both arms and squeeze him tight enough to pop. In the end, he would always love the robot more than he could ever be angry at him and, okay, maybe that was completely and totally stupid but screw everything, he couldn't care less right now.

"I am so sorry."

"Just... just shut up, okay? It's all okay now, okay?"

"...I love you."

"...I know."

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: 0_o

There is really no other description for this chapter. That is all.

What did I do good on?: PoV

What did I fail on?: Characterization

Random Question for Reviewers: Mac and Cheese or Ramen?


	25. Day Twenty-Five: Eye Gazing

"So," She smiled, charismatic and sweet. A deception. Clank had seen this woman at her best and her worst and he knew what she was really like. That this sweet, charming television persona was simply an act. But she had helped take that ad campaign against Ratchet down. The least he could was offer her a free interview, "I've heard from multiple sources that you and Ratchet have recently returned from yet another adventure. Tell me, how was the..." She blinked at the paper, "Breegus sector? Can't say I've heard of it."

Clank smiled politely, more for the camera than his interviewer, "To be fair, it is an out of the way section of the Polaris Galaxy. Considering you are native to Solana, I am not surprised that Breegus has completely escaped your attention, especially considering it has a large number of undeveloped planets."

Another smile, fake as fake can be, "Sounds exciting. So tell me, what were you up to all the way out there?"

"I am afraid that is confidential," A chuckle, hollow, "Actually, anything relating to our missions will most likely receive that answer.

"What a shame," The reporter spoke, sounding genuinely disappointed even as she wore a faux amused smile, "There are other things we're able to discuss, though. For one example..." She flipped through her notes, eyes furrowing as she dug for the information until finally coming across it, "In a previous interview, Ratchet had described your relationship with the color green as 'obsessive'. Could you perhaps elaborate on that?"

A genuine chuckle escaped the robot's vocal processor at that. Oh, he had almost forgotten that particular interview, "That interview would be two, maybe three years old now, madam. But, fortunately for you, it is still true," Her indefatigable smile twitched, and Clank imagined a grin to match Ratchet's most mischievous one to match his own mood. Yes, that would work nicely, "I will admit that maybe I go a little overboard with the color green."

Memories came flooding back, all of them about Ratchet asking his opinions on designs and Clank more or less coming to the conclusion that it would be better if it were green. While not always appreciative of this behavior, the Lombax never missed an opportunity to make fun of it. But it was not really as bad as he made it out to be, either. It was not like he lived purely for that color. He just had a preference for it.

"Interesting. Would you explain why?"

"Well..."

"_Ratchet!"_

"The color green... is... it represents something vastly important to me."

"_Come on, Ratchet! Wake up!"_

"...do you know what it is like to fear so greatly that it consumes you? To be able to think of nothing else? And then, after all of that, to have that fear suddenly alleviated? Do you have any idea of what kind of effect such relief would have on you?"

"_There is still so much to do!"_

"It alters the way you view things: for the better, in my case. When I see the color green I am reminded of that... feeling you get when your fears turn out to be unfounded. And yet, at the same time it is a reminder of that same fear."

"_I KNEW there was something odd about that Luna girl!...this is all my fault."_

"A fear that I still suffer from, actually. Do not ask me what it is. I do not know how to put it into words for you. However, just know that being reminded of the kind of terror I was in just before being saved by green keeps me on my toes. When in combat, you find that fear is actually a useful tool. It can drive you to do things you had never thought possible... that I had never assumed I was capable of. You would be surprise at what you find actually important when push comes to shove."

"_...wasn't...fault...stubborn..."_

"_You can hear me?"_

"So, yes, perhaps I am 'obsessed' with the color green. But it is not the color itself that is important. It is what it represents: fear, the relief of said fear and what good things it can drive you to do."

_Suddenly a pair of eyes snapped open. And they were green, bright emerald green and ALIVE, and it was perhaps the most beautiful thing he had ever seen._

"_...nice to have you back, Ratchet."_

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: Welp. This was a thing. Kinda sweetish, I guess. Oh, gosh, if I keep this up for too much longer I'm going to get diabetes. :P

What did I do good on?: I think my characterization of Clank was pretty good this time around.

What did I fail on?: The reporter character, I guess. I had so much trouble attempting to find a way to bring the color green into this.

Random Question for Reviewers: But where will you go? With no one left to save you from yourself...


	26. Day Twenty-Six: Marriage

Romance had always been something of an odd subject with Ratchet.

To say he was romantic was not just an understatement; it was an outright fabrication. Yeah, he'd been interested in people romantically, but that spark always just kind of... died down. Incredibly quickly. The relationship would just continually get more and more platonic until, finally, one of them (usually Ratchet, because he was used to it) would break it off, usually with little to no permanent damage to the friendship that sparked the romance. It was always, ALWAYS the same.

He'd assume it'd be the same way with Clank, too.

And that honestly scared him, that he wouldn't be a good enough boyfriend for Clank, because after all the robot had been through Clank deserved the BEST. There was literally no question about it, his best friend deserved a partner who'd care about him and respect him and treat him right, not... Ratchet. But it was what they both wanted, or so the robot had claimed, so Ratchet tried his best.

And, to his surprise... it was better this time.

Granted, there were still a few screw ups that Ratchet had probably worried about more than he should have, but overall the relationship was... successful. It hadn't gotten boring; he hadn't wanted to retreat. Instead, they just continued getting closer and closer. That fear died down after the first few months, when he was still thinking of his best friend with butterflies and smiles.

It wasn't until after a talk about these alleviated fears and some research that Ratchet discover why his romantic interest had waned so quickly before now. As it turned out, Lombaxes mate for life. Two to six months was the typical lifespan of a romantic affair, with both partners moving on quickly if the other did not strike them as somebody they'd want to spend their lives with. But on occasion, there was that one relationship that lasted a lifetime; one out of fifteen Lombaxes were able to find these 'soul mates', and not long after the year-long dating period they performed a ceremony to bond them together for life. While a tad relieved that his dating issues were not exclusive, the discovery caused such embarrassment that Ratchet shut himself in his room for the rest of the day, face down in a pillow and groaning.

How. Humiliating.

But it did explain some other interesting things. Like how he got unnaturally jealous when Clank spent too much time in others' company (_"Commonly, Lombax life mates are incredibly possessive."_), how he'd developed the annoying habit of licking the robot (_"Grooming is a sign of affection often exchanged between parents and children or life mates."_), how he'd managed to get this to work when every other relationship failed (_"Life mates, typically, will adapt to each other instead of separating, as per the norm with Lombax relationships. Though there is typically little they have to change to make their relationship succeed."_). Still, he couldn't imagine how Clank felt about this.

But it wasn't brought up the next day, when Ratchet finally emerged from his room, or the day after that. Eventually, Ratchet simply assumed that the information had been filed and stored away, like pretty much anything else Clank had learned, and that it wasn't going to be brought up again.

In retrospect, that assumption had been pretty naïve of him.

Because, unlike him, Clank WAS romantic. He did stupid little things just to make the Lombax smile and had the patience to deal with Ratchet's complete and utter lack of table manners. He didn't care when Ratchet growled or lashed out at somebody because they'd been too close for too long, and he never minded when Ratchet licked him over a few times before bed. He really shouldn't have been surprised when Clank went out of his way to organize a ceremony for them.

He had been, though. He hadn't realized what was happening at first, when Talwyn woke him up too early and forced him into nice, comfortable clothing, but he had recognized the silver band she had strapped to his wrist, with a single loop for a single charm. It was a tradition he'd read about, one he couldn't get out of his head. Marking your mate with a piece of jewelry, forged traditionally in gold. But the silver was better, somehow. It defined them more. A charm, carved by your partner, would be attached to your wrist to represent your relationship. For a little while, Ratchet played stupid, not really asking questions or talking. Maybe... this was a dream? That could be it. That HAD to be it. He hoped that wasn't it.

It finally sunk in as real when they came to the natural preservation area where Clank, Cronk and Zephyr were waiting, conversing casually. Oh, god, Clank was really doing this, wasn't he? He really... he wanted to be...

Ratchet took a deep breath. It was all he could do not to cry.

"About time," The robot smirked, eyes glimmering at him, "I was beginning to wonder when you would show up."

So many questions, so many thoughts, but all Ratchet could do not to freak out was swallow audibly and nod. At that, the smirk faded into a more gentle smile and Clank took his friend, lover, long time companion by the hand.

"I understand that this is a bit of a surprise. Perhaps I should have discussed this with you," The robot looked down, "but after finding out how Lombax's choose mates, this has been on my mind constantly. I hope that-"

The interruption was due to the shock of Ratchet hugging him, tight as he could. Oh, god, this was... Clank was... _sniff_, "N-no, pal, this is... this is amazing, really," And who'd have guessed, who'd have known, that Clank had been thinking about the exact same thing he was. No wonder they were mates now. _They were mates now_, "I love this. I love you. I love you..."

What happened next Ratchet would deny for the next few years, and even go out of his way to hack into Apogee Station and delete the only proof, but he cried. And cried. And laughed some. And then cried even more. This actually wasn't an atypical response, he'd learn sometime later. Life mates often do react strongly during the actual ceremony. Something about pent up emotions? But, as previously stated, Ratchet wouldn't learn this for quite some time. It was simply a _relief_ to know that Clank was okay with being stuck with him forever, even though that probably would've happened despite the discovery.

The actual ceremony wasn't long. They spent some time carving their charms; the one Clank made for him had been orange, with a blue wrench in the center. His for Clank had been green, the same emerald green Clank admired so much for some strange reason, with a blue gear in the center. Simplistic, but they wouldn't have had it any other way. They'd made a pledge in galactic basic, which Talwyn smoothly translated into Lombax text for them, and attached the charms: One to the silver band on his arm, the other to a silver collar Clank wore. And after that was the traditional speech of the best man, which Qwark gave graciously, even managing to mostly keep his hamminess and self-love out of it. Mostly. The rest of the ceremony was more like a party than anything. Just them and their closest friends, celebrating the union with food and drink and love all around.

And maybe, just maybe, Ratchet wasn't all that bad at romance after all. Maybe all he needed was the right partner.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: Marriage is kind of a weird subject for me. On one hand, dedicating your life to somebody else is incredibly romantic. On the other hand, a combination of personal experience with divorce and lack of acceptance for omnigendered marriage kind of destroys my faith in that particular institution. I don't know what to think of it.

What did I do good on?: Head canons, ho!

What did I fail on?: Eh, my characterization of Clank here was off.

Random Question for Reviewers: What do you think of marriage?


	27. Day Twenty-Seven: Birthday

This... this was perhaps the most befuddling thing Clank had ever heard in his admittedly short life.

"You mean you have never celebrated your birthday?"

"Nope," Ratchet leaned back in his uncomfortable looking chair. Why did he like that chair so much? It was not particularly soft, and the posture Ratchet had to take to avoid sitting on his own tail was not pleasant looking. Note to self: buy better chairs.

The robot filed this observation into the stores of his memory banks for later retrieval and continued the conversation that Ratchet, as apparent by the sudden attention he was paying to the television, "I- pardon me if I seem to be behaving rudely about this, but after all the attention you gave to myself and Angela on our respective birthdays, especially considering that I, as a robot, do not technically HAVE a birthday, it is odd to see you show such unconcern for your own."

"It's really not that big a deal," The Lombax's tone was faux-casual, the type he took when a subject hit too close to home, "You can't really celebrate something when you have no idea when it happens, can you?"

Clank blinked, a tad bit shocked, "You... you do not remember when your birthday is?" His processor whirled, a learned fact turning into a hypothesis, "Is this why you place such an importance on our birthdays? Because you have never been able to celebrate your own?"

Ratchet shrugged and made a non-committed noise, and Clank knew he hit the nail on the head.

"Well, this will most certainly not do!" The robot decided, stomping one foot down loudly to gain the Lombaxes attention. It was ridiculous, and the him of two years ago would have been speechless to see himself do something so utterly childish. But that was the past, and now Clank did not particularly care about dignity – at least, not in front of Ratchet, "After all the care you take in ensuring that your friends all have wonderful birthdays, you deserve to have one of your own. No, scratch that, you will not have just one birthday. You will have one every year from this day forward! From now on, today will be your pseudo-birthday!"

For a while, the Lombax simply stared at him vacantly. Then, soft and slow, he spoke, "Can you do that?"

"Can you give a robot who is not technically 'born' a birthday? Well, you have, so if you can do that than we can give you an alternate day to celebrate your existence."

Ratchet still didn't seem completely on-board with the idea, but he nodded, slowly, "...alright...so how are we gonna do this?"

Clank opened his mouth to answer before promptly shutting it. Hmm, valid point to the Lombax. He knew little about birthdays, and even less about what the Lombax would like. Well, this could have been better thought through. But he had made a promise, when he had announced that today was Ratchet's new birthday, and he would keep it no matter what! "Well, birthdays involve cake, right? We will order a cake!"

"Brilliant," The Lombax smirked at that, amused, and Clank assumed it was more his delivery than his actual words. But Ratchet took birthdays seriously and so he would he, "Anything else?"

"Umm..." Clank struggled to recall how Ratchet had prepared that party for him. He had not been around for most of the planning stages, "We need... guests? Yes, guests!" He could not help but beam. Of course a party needed guests! "You will need to put together a list, though. I have friends, but they are not people you would like to hang around with."

"The Lombax leaned back, his smirking growing. He was finding this amusing, apparently, "Okay, I can do that. What else will we need?"

"Food. And decorations. And... hats! People at birthday parties wear hats, right?" Clank's mouth got away from him, and he began rambling, "And music and party favors and cleaning supplies for after and beverages and beverages holders and food holders and-"

Clank was hushed by a single, gloved digit on his mouth. He had not realized during his rant that Ratchet had gotten up at some point, amused enough to laugh at him loudly, "Okay, okay, I get it. Party Master Clank knows just what to do."

Clank glared past the finger, "Well, forgive me for attempting to do something nice for you."

"I know, I know. And that's awesome, really," Ratchet laughed, more genuine and heartfelt this time, and it made Clank smile faintly. The Lombax was supposedly this joker whom never took anything seriously but that simply was not the case. Ratchet was his best friend, and if anybody deserved this he did, "Just don't fry a circuit over it, 'kay?"

"I suppose you are right," Clank sighed, recollecting the party Ratchet had thrown for him. He had really gone all the way with it, using their infobot to invite all of Clank's friends, going out of his way to cater to a mostly robot crew, even forgoing organic food because of it. A purely decorative cake had been made and promptly destroyed, in an admittedly creative twist by Ratchet. And then the Lombax had given to him a good luck charm, stating that with the Lombax around he would need it. Despite this it was an incredibly creative swirling design, hand-made and quite lovely. Ratchet had made the present all by himself and it had a nice home inside of his storage compartment.

Wait a second...

"Oh goodness!" The robot cried, rushing out the door, "I need to get you a present! You take care of the guest list, I will handle everything else!" And with those words the door slammed. Clank, fretting over what to get the Lombax, failed to hear the hysterical laughter from inside the apartment.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: Welp. That was fun. And kind of a different tone, I guess. (Shrugs)

What did I do good on?: Just something nice and light hearted. Nothing too serious.

What did I fail on?: Um, I suppose I could have been more creative...?

Random Question for Reviewers: What's so special about wonder bread?


	28. Day Twenty-Eight: Something Ridiculous

_This. Is. Stupid._

"Ratchet," Clank kicked the Lombax subtly under the table, "Be polite."

"Sorry, sorry," Ratchet sighed, "It's just... this is so BORING. Why are we even here? This isn't exactly a matter of galactic security-"

Before Clank could answer properly, a loud holler attracted his and Clank's attention to the stage, to the very reason that they WERE here. Qwark cleared his throat loudly and began speaking, "Thank you, one and all, for being here today as I, President Captain Cornelius Qwark, give my official state of the union address," At that, from his pocket he produced a scroll, which unraveled into a very long list of topics to cover, "Whoa. How are we going to get through all of this in one meeting? Um, okay, hold on," Taking yet another pause, Qwark quickly placed a pair of reading glasses upon his masked face, "Issue One: ME! Oh, yes!" The super fist pumped, "My favorite subject!"

Giving a low groan, Ratchet slammed his head down onto the table unceremoniously, "Do I still have to be polite?"

"As Qwark's friends, it is our solemn duty to be here for him... despite how objectively dull the process may be," Clank sighed, propping himself on his elbows. The fact that he failed to scold Ratchet for continuing to lay his head on the table spoke volumes of how he viewed this event. Chances were, he didn't want to be here anymore than Ratchet did.

Okay, screw this.

Sending pick-up coordinates to the Aphelion, Ratchet sat straight, waiting for the perfect opportunity. Clank seemed unaware, at the moment, what Ratchet was planning, but he probably wouldn't be too happy with it. Best keep it to himself until the time came.

Shortly afterwords, Ratchet fiddled with his inventory, looking for the item. It had to be here somewhere... aha! Suppressing a mischievous grin, Ratchet waited one more second before tossing the thing backwards, off the wall behind him, and onto the table. The people around him – politicians, mostly – gasped in confusion, watching instead of running (the idiots). Clank seemed shocked for all of two seconds before turning to glare at Ratchet. Clearly, he recognized the device.

It began levitating and performed the typical perimeter scan. Ratchet's particular genetic coding and Clank's broadcasting code were both encoded in the machine. It wouldn't effect them. The rest of the group, on the other hand...

"Hey, what?!"

"WHY CAN'T I STOP DANCING?!"

"Where did this thing even come from?!"

Sensing the opportunity to escape, Ratchet grabbed an unresisting, if not slightly annoyed, Clank by the hand and ran as fast as he could, jumping out a nearby window. He did the math. Which meant Aphelion would be there to catch them in three, two...

_Plop._

Wow. She was earlier than he expected.

Clank scowled at him from the passenger's seat. He did not look mad, per say, but he definitely was not pleased with that little stunt back there, "Ratchet, that was idiotic and embarrassing."

"So you want me to take you back and let you sit through Qwark's speech?"

"..."

"Yeah, I thought so."

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: Hello, unfunny chapter.

What did I do good on?: Coming up with a funny premise.

What did I fail on?: Making a funny premise funny.

Random Question for Reviewers: If you've read this far, I assume you ship this. Care to explain why?


	29. Day Twenty-Nine: Something Sweet

Why was it that Ratchet refused to properly clean up his own room?

He kept the garage, where he spent the majority of his time, in relatively good condition – every now and again Clank would have to ask him to mop, but he kept it neat. And he would do his fair share of tidying up in the living room/dining room and kitchen, even if Clank had to more or less bribe him into it. But it was as if he had something against any sign of order in the place where he slept. Honestly, it was not like having his things well kept would kill him or something. Or perhaps he was hoping the mess would trip up any nighttime intruders attempting to sneak up on him in his sleep?

...well, there was an unpleasant thought.

Shaking that idea from his processor, Clank proceeded on his task of organizing the clothing Ratchet had carelessly left on the floor. He did this every once in a while, when he was unable to walk across the room without tripping. Ratchet never said anything, never acted like he noticed, but it would not be long before the mess was back and the cycle would repeat itself. At least this time, with Ratchet on an outing with Miss Apogee, the room would stay spotless for at least the rest of the afternoon. And thank goodness for that. At one point he and Ratchet would need to have a serious discussion about this.

At the moment, he supposed he was alright with cleaning up after the Lombax – again. And it was not like Ratchet did not deserve pampering, what with him spending two years in sort of a lost stupor looking for his best friend, finding him against all odds and even managing to save the entire universe once or twice in the process. Clank honestly could not be any prouder of his best friend. Really... okay, maybe he would feel a bit prouder – just a tad – if the Lombax took better care of himself, but still.

Some of the clothing that coated the floor like a second carpet was actually mostly clean, to Clank's surprise, so he decided to put it back in the closet on the other side of the room. Really, was he not even attempting anymore? The clean clothing had somehow ended up on the farthest end of the room from both the closet and the door and at this point, Clank had given up attempting to decipher Ratchet's habits. Maybe one day he will ask, but he is too far from annoyed to deal with it now.

Carefully placing the clothing on hangers, Clank managed to get three—fourths of the way done before a box at the bottom of the closet piqued his interest. Not because it looked special – quite the contrary, it was simply a plain, ordinary dirt brown cardboard box – but because, in the plainest black marker he had ever seen, was his name, indistinctly Ratchet's handwriting despite it being neater than normal.

Two years ago Clank would not have snooped. He would have left the box there until the time came when he was allowed to open it. He would have gone about his duties, scolded Ratchet for his poor housekeeping, and be done with it. But this had not been there two years ago. This had been placed in there while he was still missing, and damn it if the curiosity did not stir in him. What would Ratchet get for him while he was still missing? Curious, the robot brought the package out, dropping onto the floor and opening it with careful precision, so as not to damage even a single fiber of cardboard.

Once the flaps of the box were folded back, Clank peered inside and blinked.

Several... books? Books were stacked carefully to one side, easily reaching the top. The rest of the box was filled with seemingly random objects. An old ID card from the rangers, the receipt for his helipack, a piece of raritanium... for quite some time Clank simply stared in bafflement at the collection of odd items, before finally his optics stumbled upon a clean, white piece of paper with his name on the top. Borderline eager for an explanation, he picked it up.

"_Dear Clank,"_ the note began, as neat and clear as Ratchet's handwriting could be, "_If you're reading this, then chances are... I'm probably dead."_ The line made Clank's eyes widen, and he briefly recalled his conversation with Ratchet before he and Miss Apogee went out. Oh, right. Miss Apogee was with him. No way she would let him do anything too stupid. "_Hopefully I'll have gone out saving the universe in one final deed of heroism and justice, but if you have any say in it I'll probably be an old fart on his death bed. Heh. But back on topic... you being missing for so long got me thinking: I can barely last two years without you. And I got to thinking... what will you do when I die?"_

"_**I said STOP!"**_

_**ZAP!**_

"_**RATCHET!"**_

Clank's insides coiled.

"_So... I got to going through a lot of our old stuff at one point Going through some old memories, ya know? A lot of these really made me feel better while you were gone so I thought maybe they'd work the same way with you. Maybe. I know you have like, an unfathomably large and accurate memory or whatever but in case someday that isn't enough... there are so many memories in here. Each one important in their own way. The books are full of pictures. Took me ages to collect all of them but I really like how they turned out. At the time of writing this, they're not finished yet... they probably won't be finished until I die, actually. Well, at at any rate, I hope you enjoy these and the memories as much as I have. It's been a blast, pal. Love, Ratchet."_

For a long while Clank simply sat there, staring down at the note in his hand. Then, after quite some time had passed, he picked himself up.

Put the things he had taken out back in as fast as he could.

Put the box back.

And walked out of the room.

He... he needed to be alone for a while.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Note: This is it, guys. Why I love Ratchet and Clank and any robot/organic pairing. Because, while they're often played up for comedy, there's this eternal tragedy to it, too. While a robot can live as long as they can keep their parts functional, organics are living by a biological clock. Eventually one half will be left alone. Forever. Can you imagine that?

What did I do good on?: I like how Clank reacts at the end. Just kind of... going numb over it.

What did I fail on?: Perhaps the beginning was too detail-oriented compared to the finish. Perhaps.

Random Question for Reviewers: The prompt was 'Something Sweet'. This accomplished that, right?


	30. Day Thirty: Something Hot

The teenagers were all standing outside, bleary-eyed and confused, talking amongst themselves. Behind them, the previously roaring flames were just about settled down, the men and woman of the fire department working tirelessly to destroy the flames.

Somewhere out of sigh, a freshman watched the scene with an annoyed expression, before turning it on the two people behind her, "Really, guys? Setting my dorm on fire? Really?"

The yellow cat-like creature pouted at her with arms crossed, looking just about as pleased as she was, "Hey, you started it. You're the one making all those stupid stories."

"They're. Just. STORIES!"

The two glared each other down, each with equal and intense fury. The third party, a small robot, blinked as he simply alternated his gaze between the two of them, attempting to decide which one to side with. On one hand, they did unjustly burn down her dorm. But she did create those... _interesting_ stories about the two of them. But he was the robot's best friend... but she was simply a college student...

Decisions, decisions.

Meanwhile, the human girl and feline male continued squabbling, "I can't believe you! Just asking me and maybe bribing me with POPCORN would've made me stop writing fanfiction! But NO... instead you burn down my place of residence. Just for that, I'm not going to stop," Her eyes narrowed in determination, darkening in rage, "In fact, just for this little stunt I'm NEVER going to stop!"

"Please, madam, we apologize for the damage-"

"A little late for sorry now that you've burned down EVERYTHING I OWN!"

The girl huffed and puffed, attempting to calm her rage while the robot and feline in front of her simply stared. Finally, the feline sighed, "Okay, maybe I got a little out of hand-"

"A LITTLE?!"

"BUT," He added hastily, "I am sorry. We'll- we'll replace your stuff. And you," He sighed, "You can keep writing stories..."

The girl crossed her arms, a bit satisfied but still miffed, "I don't need your permission to keep writing stories. How about this? I'll keep my mouth shut, you'll replace my stuff, and we'll pretend none of this ever happened... and you give me your pyrociter."

"WHAT?"

"Ratchet," The robot snapped warningly, having apparently chosen a side, "Just give her what she wants and we can go home."

The feline pouted, annoyed, before he sighed, ears bend and head turned, "...fine. Just take it."

The fire-based weapon was placed into the teenage girl's awaiting arms. She gave them a lop-sided grin and tried to position the device properly in her arms, only to fumble with the device. It... turned out to be surprisingly heavy. After positioning it somewhat comfortably, she smiled confidently at the heroes and said, "Thanks."

The two opposite of her nodded, not quite happy by the arrangement but not terribly upset with it, either. What was the worst she could do?

"Hey, guys!" A man clothed in green snuck out from behind a nearby dumpster, "Have you finished talking to that chick with the slash fetish?"

The girl's eyes narrowed as he continued talking. When the man got close enough, she 'accidentally' pressed the trigger, raining fire upon the superhero.

Ratchet and Clank could only watch as the Authoress continued to chase Qwark around with the pyrociter. This was definitely the worst idea they'd ever had.

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and the OTP Challenge do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: In which the girl writer refuses to use this prompt to its fullest potential.

What did I do good on?: NOT writing something "hot".

What did I fail on?: Investing any time in this last prompt.

Final Thoughts?: This was... okay. It was something to do. But I really should be putting some work into other things. At the very least, I had fun. And that's what mattered, right?

**Final Stats (As of September 6, 2013):**

Favorite Chapter: After thinking about it for a while... it's probably Chapter Two: Cuddling. Chapters One, Twelve and Twenty-Nine were also considered.

Least Favorite Chapter: Probably... Chapter Twenty-Eight.

Word Count: 31,162

Reviews: 70

Favorites: 9

Follows: 9

Random Question for Reviewers: What was your LEAST favorite chapter and why?


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